#mackenzie stone

[witchqueenofthemoon]

[codyfernaesthetic]

Someone please stop me I made more

@witchqueenofdarkness

[witchqueenofthemoon]

I think I found Kenzie’s dress for the Gala, y’all

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 34 EPILOGUE (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Here we are at the end. I keep imagining myself four months ago, on the edge of all of this--a completely different self, one that was so deeply discontent with everything in her life, unable to confront it all. I wonder what I would have said if you told me that soon not only would I have written a book, I’d have broken up with my partner of almost 8 years, changed my diet utterly, and tested the limits of my endurance for a broken heart. WELL, SELF, HERE WE ARE, ON THE EDGE OF OBLIVION. I’ve charged through all of it, and now I’m floating in the ether, unsure of where my path is going to lead next. To say I’m terrified is an understatement; but mostly I’m just drifting inside all of this, trying to take it an hour at a time. BODY AND SOUL was, and is, and always will be, about the bond between two luminous souls that cannot be broken by anyone or anything--a bond that is capable of changing the fabric of time with its strength and endurance. Love is everything. Love is the gold that you see in dappled sunlight and in the coolness of the evening and the sunset that floats down a horizon; it’s in the touch of hands, the quiet moments of stillness when you’re alone (yes, it’s there too), the earnest eyes of another heart seeing into yours. In the end, the love we give will always determine the love we’re capable of receiving--and if we can both take the love we’re given and give of ourselves with abandon, we’ve found the secret to life. My sincerest thanks to anyone and everyone who has supported this journey for me here on Tumblr specifically, but especially to these luminous beings: @misslunarayne, who has now become one of my dearest friends and closest confidantes, @ladywriter94 who has been my CONSTANT cheerleader and has sent me so many asks to rekindle my drive when my brain felt empty and my candle burned low, @surprisebitchwrites who was a ray of light from the beginning (and who coined Duckenzie--for which I am forever in her debt), @hi-ilovedamien who has been so earnest and attentive and made so many wonderful Instagram edits, @kahhlo who seemed to overcome her shyness along the way (hey baby doll), @deanfinite and @goddess-of-inferno who also felt moved to make edits, and last but certainly not least, @nat-de-lioncourt, who made the edit for my masterpost (the first one anyone did for my story), and was one of BODY AND SOUL’s most vocal supporters from Day 1. Without you, this story could never have been what it became. I’m indebted to all of you. Here, words fail me. I’m just so grateful.

When it comes to the garden house, it’s an idea most of all--I avoided too many details, because the garden house is what YOU want it to be. It’s my dream, but it’s your dream too. It’s the dream that comes to life when you open your heart to love and beauty. This is Kenzie’s dress in the painting. I made my AO3 (I’m @witchqueenofdarkness there too). Look for Part 1 there this week along with the BODY AND SOUL Spotify playlist (coming soon) and a masterpost that includes every BODY AND SOUL edit anyone has made for me. I’ll be seeing you.

EPILOGUE

ONE YEAR AFTER THE WEDDING

Kenzie was elbow-deep in her tomato plants. They were bursting with ripe fruits; tomatoes so large and red and perfectly formed they seemed unreal. All of her vegetables were growing that way; this was the first yield since the garden’s initial planting, and she still couldn’t quite believe how utterly spring and then summer had burst upon the house. There were a million flowers; the dahlias and lilies she and Duncan had planted together in March were blooming in lush rows along the south side of the greenhouse, stretching along its frosted glass facade. Beyond that, the house itself was surrounded by lavender and hydrangeas, towering sunflowers, yarrow and catnip, all growing with lush abandon, dazzling her eyes with their color under the shade of her straw sunhat.

We suspected this might happen, but we could have never imagined just how beautiful it would be. In this place, the laws of nature are greater. Held in the palm of Her hand, things grow endlessly. The Fates weave their endless tapestry through time and space; She creates and destroys, always.

Kenzie turned her head as she heard soft neighing behind her, the steady, slow sound of horseshoes on earth. Crocus was coming up to the fence, tossing his head at her. Whatcha doing? The soft drift of his low, large energy drifted across the yard to her; his tail flicked lazy flies from his hindquarters, silky cream in the June sunshine. Kenzie couldn’t quite hear the horse’s thoughts, but sometimes she felt like she could get small little pieces of his mood, tiny drifts of strange horsey contemplations; happy, she felt from him. Content. Kenzie stood, wiping the dark earth from her hands on the pair of old cut-off denim shorts she wore. She approached the post-rail fence, craning to look beyond Crocus for a moment to the field behind him.

“Where’re they, huh, honey-sweet?” She murmured, reaching two fingers to his damp nose. Crocus tossed his head; the braids in his mane slapped on his long neck. Beats me. Chasing dragonflies. Eating tidbits.

Kenzie stuck a finger in her lips, against her tongue, and whistled out into the low breeze. “Ivy! Pepper!” She whistled again, sending drifts of golden thought out beyond the hill the fence stretched around. She paused for a moment, hand drifting up Crocus’ long snout, then smiled as she heard the telltale sound of galloping horses; their two dark shapes drifted around the hillside and she grinned.

“Pepp, Ivy, come on over here, come on, come see me,” she chanted, hitching herself through the fence’s slats and carefully over the enclosure. Pepper made it first; his dark-chocolate coat shone in the haze of the afternoon, blindingly smooth, his flanks rippling. Black-eyed susans were woven into the darkness of his mane; Kenzie had spent hours with him yesterday, braiding them through. My sweet dark Pepper, she thought, turning an arm up to him; he pressed his long forehead into her hand and she cooed up at him. Ivy was tossing her head, eager for attention; her black coat was like a dark, reflectant pool, luxuriously smooth. She had tiny daisies in her mane; one of Kenzie’s favorite things to do this summer had been spending hours on their manes in the morning, hours with their quiet, huge spirits, the strong scent of them, their wide eyes, the overwhelming aura of them. My sweet Crocus, Pepper, Ivy. My beauties. She rode Crocus most often; Ivy had gravitated to Duncan from the start, eager to be near him, though he’d take Pepper out with Kenzie sometimes, beyond the field and through the woods to the far northwest of the property. Kenzie could often feel the presence of the Goddess in them; they were ever sweet and mild to her, far more inclined to be ill-behaved and mischievous toward Duncan. But I’m their beloved, Kenzie knew. Even they know who I am; who I was once. My sweet ones.

She turned away from them as she heard the screen door to the side of the garden house creak open; River stood there in a tulip-sleeve white summer dress with lemons printed on it, a floppy sun hat covering her straight black hair.

“Kenz, I got somemore paperwork from the court ordinance, I just need you to sign it when you get a chance. And Frederick called--he heard of some Waterhouse painting coming up for auction and wondered if you and Duncan would be interested in it.”

“Thanks, River, I’ll come in in a second, is that okay? Did they say anything about how Mr. Carothers is doing?”

“They said something about him doing well with the program, almost being done with it, I think. That was all, really.”

“That’s good. Can you call Frederick back and make an appointment for us with him next week? It’s a good excuse to visit him. I’d love to see the peacock again, anyway.”

“Sure, Kenz. I made some yerba mate iced tea a little while ago, if you want some.”

“Oo, that sounds lovely. I’ll be in soon, Riv.” Just giving my babies some love, she thought, and knew River understood without her needing to say it aloud. She turned back to Crocus and heard River swing the door shut; long, languid ivy was growing along that side of the house, dipping down through its stony facade, and the sight of it lingered in her mind as she stared into Crocus’ damp eyes. Her thoughts drifted to the court appearance several months ago; the time the man--his name was Jeremy Carothers, and he’d spiraled into deep alcoholism when he’d been fired from Shepherd Unlimited several years back--had broken into the Post building and accosted her seemed like ages ago, another life; revisiting it in the court room had been surreal. But as soon as she’d gotten to the court house that day, Kenzie had known she wouldn’t be pressing any charges; in fact, it had become clear to her that she wanted to pay for the man’s mental health services entirely. There’s no room for animosity in my heart, she thought. I am far too blessed. The point was always to share it with others. Always. The work the Foundation had been able to accomplish over the past two years was so extraordinary and moving; every major city in the United States was now implementing a solar program, and green house gas emissions, through the Foundation’s initiatives and new laws passed by the President with the help of Shepherd Unlimited and newly elected progressive candidates to public offices, were plummeting.

The world was changing.

Because of our love, Kenzie thought. Because of everything we’ve been able to do. Together. Spreading it far and wide and making it grow. Grow over everything. Touch everything with golden light.

Kenzie kissed her fingertips then pressed them to Crocus’ cool nose. The sun had become oppressively hot; she stepped towards the stable, beckoning to the horses.

“Come on, beauties, let’s get in the shade, shall we?” Ivy and Pepper eagerly followed Crocus, who was always the leader; he lumbered up lazily beside Kenzie as she made her way through the cool enclosure of the vaulted stable, carefully pushing the gates closed on each of the horses in turn, their paddocks side by side; a golden gate for Crocus, blue for Ivy, red for Pepper. She gathered their grain bags from the storage on the side-wall, pouring a cup full into each, attaching them to the hooks on inside walls of the three stalls; her eyes roved over the horses as they ate, pressing a fingernail against her mouth.

Miss you, baby, she thought out into the ether. Can’t wait for you to come home. Kenzie felt out with her mind; let her goldness drift through the stable doors, out and down to the beaten path that led in two directions, one to the house’s front gate (white-washed and covered in Zinnias this time of year), the other to the side greenhouse, its frosted, slanting rooftop glittering with sun; the double doors were open and she could almost smell the scent of the ginseng and ginger that were growing wildly within, her towering bamboo plants and pachira aquatica. She pushed her thoughts beyond; far, far beyond, out of the sphere of the property, beyond the forest that surrounded them, down the long roads and the highway to the city, where Duncan was working today. Come home, she thought. Come home and hold me, my love.

For a moment, she felt the drifting column of his blue energy falling against her, despite all the distance. Soon, beloved. Soon, my angel. On my way to you.

Kenzie trailed her fingers along each of the horses’ foreheads for a few moments; then she stepped outside of the stables, along the path towards the house; for a moment she took a detour through the greenhouse’s blown glass doorway, skirting under the canopies of ivy and through the palms that were growing with abandon now in the summer heat. My own little jungle, she thought, and not for the first time. She went on, past the daylilies, petunias and marigolds, bursting with color--here the backdoor led out to a little courtyard between the greenhouse and the main house, a fountain with the forms of Hades and Persephone in the center; Hades and Persephone, but made to look like us, Kenzie thought, gazing over it for a long moment as she passed through. It was Duncan’s face encased in stone there; and hers, hair falling back, petals drifting through its stony waves. His hands drifted at her arms, their faces turned up to each other. This stony Duncan wore an aegis; an aegis that had been carved in the likeness Duncan had described to the sculptor who created it. In the image of the one I saw in my dreams, he’d told her. The one I had in that other place, in that other time.

Kenzie went on into the house, sighing with relief from the heat. Here in the back hallway, there was no sound but the cool drift of a grandfather clock; in its face were the moon, sun and stars, and the likenesses of three women, one young, one of middle age, and one ancient; between them drifted gossamer threads in shining gold and blue. The triple-faced goddess. Her. And Time, which she created after we’d found our love; after we were the first true Soulmates. And now, everlasting.

Kenzie looked up as she heard soft music begin to drift down from the office at the end of the hall; River had put something on while she was working.

I’ll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places....that this heart of mine embraces...all day through...

The light was beginning to fall lower over the hall and the oaken staircase above the clock; evening was coming, and that meant Duncan would be home soon. Kenzie’s eyes drifted up to the end of the hallway beside the door to the office; a huge painting hung there, one that still took her breath away every time she saw it. It’s us, she thought, smiling, tears gathering in the corners of her vision. In the painting of them, commissioned over a year ago after their wedding, Duncan stood with his hand nestled gently at her shoulder; he wore a long black coat that dipped down over his chest at an angle, his curls on his forehead, his blue eyes piercing out towards the onlooker. Kenzie sat in a gold, gilded chair, her expression calm and discerning; the artist, who was known for his comparisons to Sargent, had painted her eyes with an ethereal golden glow, her honey-chestnut hair around her shoulders. Her dress was blush and rosy; flowers drifted through its tulle folds around her feet and the floor. Her hand was lifted around Duncan’s fingers, and her moonstone and diamond wedding band glinted there, painted to a lifelike perfection. The Young Royals, the artist had named it; anyone who beheld it regarded it with a sense of awe, often staring at it for a long while, seeming to lose themselves in their eyes, its calming aura.

In that small cafe, the park across the way…

Kenzie was reminded of taking Duncan to Emissary that morning two years ago; the softness of him as he pulled her against him on her constellation coverlet. She thought of how he’d kissed her with such abandon in front of One Franklin Square; in front of a crowd, and she smiled, blushing at the memory. We didn’t care at all.

I’ll be seeing you, in every lovely summer’s day, in everything that’s light and gay, I’ll always think of you that way…

The oak circle, she thought, clutching her hands around her waist--overcome, suddenly, in the drift of memory. That first time at the beach house. The Gala. That night at Le Diplomate, when my heart felt about to burst, his lips on my cheek. The first time I saw The Youth of Bacchus, the first time I saw him, in the roses, on that balcony. And I felt Her; I felt the hand of Fate. Rosemary. The knowledge of our destiny, our past, our future, our task. And we’ve begun to accomplish everything. Despite that other world, or our other selves, or our other fates in those other places; in this world we’re together, and we’ve accomplished wonders, and we’ll do more wonders still. It’s the love between us that did that. It’s the love between us that will go on and spread over this whole world--it’s love that heals everything.

She heard his footsteps on the pathway outside before she saw him; sensed him, drifting stormy blue. The door behind her opened; she turned and fell into Duncan’s arms, the jasmine and cedar of him causing the tears to fall from her eyes now, her mouth leaning up into his.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered into her lips. Here I am. Home with you.

I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new

I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you

The light continued to fade over the painting at the end of the hall; if Kenzie and Duncan had been paying attention to it, they would have noticed the glowing, ethereal quality of the eyes of their likenesses in it, the way the gold and blue of them seemed to shimmer and pulse as they often did in the evening; they would have noticed how ethereal, incomprehensible wings seemed to shimmer behind their likenesses, how their painted clothing seemed to shift into impossible geometries; but they were too mesmerized with each other, too wrapped up in each other’s arms; there was nothing in this moment but the two of them. As it ever was.

I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you

Evening came on the garden house.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

“You know,” she said, as he moved towards her, carefully, “today, after I got here, I looked at your home for a long time. Its energy. Its spirit.”

“What did you see?” He couldn’t remove the longing from his voice; everything I want, everything I need, he thought. It’s you. Only you. He came up against the other side, against the wall of his study; he leaned against it, his arm propped up, trying to look out at the capital city’s glow; but his eyes turned to her, almost involuntary, lost in her.

She dipped her head down for a moment, thoughtful, her eyes to the steep incline of the ground, thirty stories down; the crystal glass glinted in her hand again, throwing stardust against her cheek.

“That you love art and beauty. That you love books. That you love the strength of women; the strength and yes, the beauty, and the beauty of men, too, I think. I think so. And that you have a great and hidden depth in you, Duncan Shepherd, one that perhaps not everyone around you sees; one that you hold secret, pressed against your heart.”

He kept his eyes on her. She turned to him, dazzling, soft, and he noticed her wine glass was almost empty now.

“I think you really are like the God of the Underworld; a prince on a cold throne. And I think you need a Queen made of Light who sees the light in you. And I think I am her.”

from Part 11 of Body and Soul, a Millory/House of Cards AU, by me ( @witchqueenofdarkness ).

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 29 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Okay y’all...listen. I meant to get this part up yesterday, but the Met Gala ate my fucking soul. Billie and Cody finally together at an event since MONTHS AGO at Ryan Murphy’s Walk of Fame ceremony is a thing I have been waiting for...since then, which was back in November. NEEDLESS TO SAY I WAS KIND OF DISTRACTED. Cody looked like some kind of cerulean space prince, and Kenzie looked like a goddamn glitter princess barbie, and then they started screaming along to Cher together and I DIED and now I’m speaking to you from heaven. IT’S BEEN A HUNDRED YEARS SINCE WE GOT ANY COLLIE CONTENT. I was on cloud nine, and I still am. It’s the intense, magnetic chemistry between them that birthed Millory in the first place, and Millory, of course, birthed Duckenzie. The two of them so happy together after months of not seeing each other was just so incredibly wonderful, I feel so grateful to Leslie in particular. I still feel like I’m high off of all of it, but especially the two of them, who are just absolute royalty to me. AND NOW ON TO THE CHAPTER: This is a big one. I’ve been waiting for a long time to introduce Rosemary to all of you--who is (did you guess?) my Angela Basset/Marie Laveau AU. I’ve known for awhile that she was going to play an important role in this story, and it was as wonderful for me to meet her as it was for Duckenzie here. She’ll show up one more time before the end; and I might do a little one-shot eventually where they go to visit her in New Orleans. She makes a really mean gumbo. Her top is like this, her skirt like this, her headscarf, her boots, some of her necklaces: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. A reminder that Kenzie’s dress in this part looks like this. The Fates, at least, my version of them (certainly based on the Moirai but also on the many incarnations of Hecate, as she bestows magical powers on Kenzie and Duncan, and on the witches in the AHS universe, and all witches in all universes, at least in my mythology), were always going to be the Triple Goddess, the Goddess many witchcraft practitioners (myself included) pay homage to: once again, the Divine Feminine energy that guides true goodness in the universe. Her mythology is partially my own invention (giving her a Heaven, making her the force of Light that fights against cosmic Darkness/the Devil, rather than a patriarchal god), partially in accordance to many witch beliefs. I loved that “god” appears to Michael in APOCALYPSE as a little girl; if anyone remembers that I put Ariana Grande’s GOD IS A WOMAN way back in Part 4 (cuz y’all, even then I had plans), you get a cookie. Duckenzie’s High Destiny has long been in the works in the grace notes of my story; it’s the cosmic energy of their union bringing a balance into their world. I’d need some weed to deal with the information they’re given, hence they smoke some weed. To finally have a chance to explain the way in which Duncan and Kenzie are Michael and Mallory was a big moment for me and for this fic; and to explain that she will always be his saving grace, too. I didn’t want to focus on sadness or despair regarding Duncan’s fate as Michael; rather the joy of the redemption of Duncan’s universe. I had to put WITCH-QUEEN OF NEW ORLEANS in this part as an homage to Rosemary being Marie Laveau in another life (also, it’s a fucking jam). Had to include a nod to Purity Ring’s BEGIN AGAIN in Duncan’s thoughts when he’s eating Kenzie out in this part, the most Millory song of all time to me. A reminder that this is the Demeter/Persephone illustration. This is the one of Selene looking down on Endymion. The excerpt Kenzie reads is indeed directly from the book. This chapter marks the closure of an important arc of my fic; from here on out, I’m moving forward into the last 1/3 of the story. As ever, your reblogs, comments, asks and edits (moodboards, playlists, aesthetics, everything) mean the world to me. If you’re reading, please take a minute to reblog the masterpost, thank you. 

The light was high when he finally woke; the day was half over, Duncan could tell immediately, before he even opened his eyes. We slept all morning. Oh god, that’s so fucking wonderful. I don’t remember the last time I slept all morning. Something had woken him, he knew with a vague knowledge. A loud sound.

His dream drifted off. I was in the woods, dirty, starving, tired, and a little girl was offering me an apple, but I wouldn’t take it for some reason...I was waiting for someone else...and he forgot it, moving up from sleep into the summer daylight. The room was balmy-warm, the golden sunlight past the window, coming from somewhere overhead, the wind drifting on the curtains again, the sound of a crow cawing outside somewhere over the lake. It was at least midday, but Duncan could smell the remnants of the hickory fire wafting through the window. It really was a good fire. And I made it. I pulled it out of my own heart, that fire.

There was a long, low buzzing--the doorbell, Duncan knew. Or rather, the bell for the front gate, the keypad and security feed downstairs beside the walnut-wood front door. Who the fuck could that possibly be. We didn’t tell anyone but Madeline where we were going. Maybe it is Madeline?

He stirred, his arm instinctively coming around Kenzie’s breast, his nose turning down into her hair; it smelled like the grass, the sun, her sweet sweat, and the residue of her rosy-jasmine shampoo. The bed was so wonderfully soft, the feel of her so exquisite--Duncan sent out jabs of resentment towards the sound that had woken him. How fucking dare you.

Kenzie stirred a little against him--he leaned up, brushing the hair from her cheek to kiss it. The buzz rang out again, low and insistent and bracing. Her eyes fluttered and she let out a little moan, turning her face up towards him.

“Dunny, what is that,” she murmured. “Turn it off.”

“It’s the buzzer for the gate, baby,” he replied, his own voice coming out in a groan. “Someone’s at the gate.”

Her eyes came open immediately at that. “What? Who?”

“I have no idea. Did we even tell anyone where the cabin is?”

“I didn’t. Did you?”

“No...I don’t think so…”

The buzzer rang again; Kenzie moaned, turning into him, burying her face in his bare chest. How fucking dare you, he thought again, bringing his face down, kissing beside the dip of her eye. How dare you make me get out of bed, away from her. Who could have possibly found us? He hesitated for a long moment, contemplating staying and letting whoever it was ring the buzzer until they got tired and went away--but no, he thought, with a twinge of precognition. It’s someone important. It’s someone we have to see. Oh god, I hope it isn’t Annette.

Duncan got up, pained to move away from her, sliding over the softness of the bed. He trod naked to his suitcase, feeling Kenzie’s eyes on him, her eyes falling down to the half-hardness of his sleepy cock, a pout around her mouth. We came out here to get away from everyone, and still, someone found us. Somehow. Fuck. He pulled on briefs and another pair of jersey shorts, these in dark black, and one of the plain black tee shirts, ruffling a hand through his hair, and yawned.

The buzzer. Again.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed. “Who the fuck is that?”

“If it’s Annette, I’m going to freak out,” Kenzie said, and Duncan watched her affectionately as she kicked her legs under the soft covers in frustration. He glanced at an elaborate golden-framed clock, beside one of the laurels. It was 12:17 PM. Fuck, it’s past noon. We slept for a long time. Fuck it. We earned it. We had a perfect day yesterday, full of wonders, and a perfect, long sleep. And now what--now what.

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Duncan hesitated, then winked at her. Fuck it. I’ll move through space again. Why not. He closed his eyes and grinned as he heard Kenzie’s delighted hum towards him, felt her knowledge at what he was about to do. That’s it, Dunny, show me your magic. Then her laugh cut off--he ached at the loss of it--and before he opened his eyes again, he already knew he was downstairs, facing the inside of the front door.

There was a small iPad beside the door here, the intercom below it and remote buttons for opening and closing the gate. Duncan tapped the tablet with a finger, and the security camera feed came up, facing the outward side of the road. There was a red Toyota Camry parked there, and the woman in the front seat was pressing insistently at the buzzer--he heard it ring again through the house, heard the far-away sound of another exasperated groan from Kenzie upstairs. He couldn’t see the woman’s face very well from this angle, but he could see the chocolatey color of her skin as she extended an arm through the car window. Her nails were long and red.

Duncan switched the cameras; now the one on the feed was from straight above the outside buzzer the woman was pressing so incessantly. Now he could see into the driver’s seat clearly. He didn’t recognize the woman at all, but she was stunningly beautiful; she had sharp, slanting cheekbones, pursed in impatience, full lips in deep mauve, a dark silk titian-colored scarf wrapped around her head. Her eyes flashed out at him through the camera; they were dramatically intense and bright, brimming with secret knowledge. Her skin was warm cocoa-brown, and flawless. Duncan shivered.

Who are you?

He pressed the talk button on the program’s interface, puzzled, frowning.

“Can I help you?”

The woman started; Duncan saw her jerk back in her seat, surprised. Her expression shifted from frustration to one that seemed to be relief--it was difficult to tell on the feed, but she seemed tired, as though she’d been waiting for a long time, or had missed sleep, her expression drawn. As he watched her on the iPad screen, she pressed a hand between her eyes, then lifted her palms together skyward, as if in a silent prayer of thanks.Then she leaned over and spoke into the intercom.

“Praise be to Her, is this Duncan Shepherd?”

Duncan balked. Fuck. Shit. They found us. Someone found us.

“May I ask who you are and what your business here is?”

“I know that’s you, I can feel that it’s you, honey--and I can feel Mackenzie Stone here, too. I need you to let me in. I drove almost 17 hours with some very poor sleep in between to get here from New Orleans, pulled by the Will of the Goddess with a forceful hand, because She wants me to speak to you two and tell you what She told me, that the time is upon us. Now, if you would be so kind, I am starving and would appreciate some breakfast, and I need to park this car before I crash it into a tree, blue eyes.”

“How did you find us? We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. We’ve been here for a day--”

“Sugar, honey, listen, I told you. The Goddess. Sent. Me. She came to me and She told me where you were and She told me everything. It’s gonna take awhile to tell you everything, so you best let me in and make me some eggs and some black coffee and roll me a big joint of that strong blue weed I know you got.”

What the fuck.

“Who are you?”

The woman let out a long sigh, rolling her eyes, dipping her chin up, then turned back to the intercom, enunciating with a pointed impatience.

“I am Her Hand, and She sent me, and Her will is to reveal your High Destiny. My name is Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, and you, Duncan Malcolm Shepherd, best let me the fuck in.”

Her words came like a heavy weight against Duncan’s mind, a pressing hand squeezing on his heart. This woman was powerful; he could feel her power from here, surrounding him, pressing against him, running along the edges of his skin, brushing the sleep from his mind, stoking him wide awake. This woman is a seer, a priestess. She can see things that are happening, have happened, will happen. She’s the one who was coming--the thing on the horizon that we felt on its way. And now she’s here. It’s her destiny to come to us, it’s our destiny to receive and hear her. Okay, Fates. I get it. I’m picking it up, loud and clear. Shit.

Duncan double-tapped the button beside the intercom; OPEN GATE.

He watched the beautiful woman through the screen; she smiled, her teeth shining out from her face--he could see her eyes flash, marvelously clear despite the smallness of the iPad screen.

“Blessed be,” she said, pushing a pair of large dark sunglasses over her eyes. Then she laughed, and the laugh sent a shiver up Duncan’s spine; it was lit with a bright joy that seemed to descend from the top of his head down into every part of his body, a tingling, vibrating energy charged with prophecy. It’s here. She’s here. The thing that was coming has arrived.

He turned away from the intercom and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time; his heart was hammering and he felt far too nervous, suddenly, to try to use his still-mysterious power once more.

“Kenz,” he called as he reached the landing, sprinting down the hall. Something was lifting him up now; kindling his excitement, pitching his nerves to a high place. “Baby--” He ran through the bedroom doorway, skidding to a stop, falling onto the bed on his knees. Kenzie was sitting up now, clutching the blanket against her naked torso, her chestnut-light hair tangled around her shoulders, staring at him with an apprehension in her sleepy eyes; then she saw his face, lit with that strange excitement building in his gut, and smiled at him, nervously.

“Dunny, what? Who was it? What is it?”

“Kenzie, it’s--I don’t know who she is, but it’s her. The one that was coming. The one we felt. You know? She’s the one. She’s beautiful, Kenzie. She’s a medium--or something, I can feel it. You know how we were talking about going to see a psychic? Well--I think she came to us. She felt us. Kenzie, she said she just drove here for 17 hours from New Orleans. She said her name is...Rosemary. Something. She said--fuck, Kenzie, she said The Goddess sent me, She told me where you were--”

His words were tumbling out at break-neck speed--he slid over the softness of the bed to grasp Kenzie’s (beautiful, tiny, beloved) hands, and he could see the uncertainty in her gaze bleeding out into the excitement he felt.

“Duncan--really?”

“Really, my love. Oh, fuck. Really.”

Kenzie let the blanket fall away from her, and Duncan couldn’t stop himself--he clutched at her, under the sweet roundness of her little breasts, pulled her against him, immediately devouring her mouth in a kiss that flooded his body with tingling energy. Her divinity washed over him--the tide of her. Mackenzie Stone. We’re here, at the doorway, our Fate is on the other side. I’m not afraid. You’re here with me.

“I found you,” he murmured into her lips. “I found you, I found you, we’re here, we’re here together, I’m ready--”

“Oh, baby--” and Kenzie was kissing him breathlessly, her smell the sweetest thing in all the world, roses crushing into him. Duncan leaned away to look at her; Kenzie’s eyes were gold-flecked and infinitely bright, and her beauty was iridescent in the noon sunlight winking through the curtains. Mackenzie Shepherd, angel of my life, the part of me that was cut away, the fixed, irrevocable light of my soul.

“She said she has a lot to tell us. She’s coming now, she’s probably almost at the door. I’m going to make us all some breakfast. She knew things, Kenz, I don’t fucking know--I feel like she knows everything about us. You’ll see. Even through the screen I could feel her power. It was coppery-purple, like a sheen all over her...come downstairs when you’re ready, okay, baby? Take your time. I can feel it, can you feel it?”

“Yes, baby, yes. I can feel it so much I can hardly breathe.” Tears were in her eyes; he kissed her again, and Kenzie clung to him, her softness overwhelming to him, and for a moment he wished he could throw her down into the bed, kiss every inch of her nakedness, every tiny secret place of her heart. Then they broke apart; Duncan knew as he could feel she did that the time was upon them, and his adorations would have to come later. 

The time when we find out who we really are.

Kenzie slid away from him towards the edge of the bed and he grasped her waist, helping her down--she stood there, naked and shivering in some phantom breeze, her golden hair falling down her back in a shimmering wave, then she kneeled to her suitcase, tucking the strands that fell into her eyes behind her ears, looking away from him, determined. Duncan gathered up the bag of weed, the lighter, his grinder and his gold pipe from one of the laurel mantels where they’d left it yesterday, then went to the door, looking back at her again for a moment, trailing a hand through the side of his hair.

“Kenzie, baby--”

“Dunny, I know. I know. Just go downstairs, okay? I’ll be there soon. I know. I feel it too.”

He nodded inside her gold-flecked gaze, then turned away, sniffing back the tears he felt coming, trying to stave them. I feel the hand of destiny, and oh Fate, it’s heavy. It’s fearsome to behold it, to contemplate its weight, this Thing, this knowledge we’re about to be given.

Duncan heard a sharp, determined knock on the door downstairs then, and his breath caught. He ran down the hall, throwing himself down the stairs; he reached the door, flipping the double turning locks in fumbling fingers, yanked at the long handle--as he pulled the door wide a burst of golden sunlight drifted over his eyes, caught in the dappled trees. He lifted a hand to shield his face, and saw the woman standing there, silhouetted in a golden shroud that was like a holy halo around her. A halo, like Kenzie’s, Duncan thought. And then he heard her laugh again--and her laugh was even more beautiful now that he was standing before her. A laugh the angels would sigh to hear.

She reached out for him--Duncan felt frozen inside her dark-bright eyes, intensely focused on him beneath arched, graceful brows, the sharpness of her cheeks glowing dark sienna in the sun. She was immediately imposing; regal, her posture graceful, her poise intimidating and unmistakable. Her mouth smiled that radiantly white smile he’d glimpsed through the iPad screen; his breath caught to see it in the flesh, struck by her majesty, the expression on her staggeringly beautiful features, knowing, wise, and expectant. Her burgundy-colored blouse had long, drifting sleeves that fluttered in the slight wind, and her long black skirt fell to her ankles with an intricate pattern of flowers and vines. On her feet were heeled knee-high boots in dark brown leather. Around her neck were what seemed to be a dozen necklaces, gold and silver chains mixed in with leather cords and multi-colored ropes of beads; a raven skull, the claws of unknown animals, the symbol of the waxing, full, and waning moons (like the one Kenzie has), the voluptuous shape of a woman, a huge pointed obsidian, and countless tiny quartz points.

“I see what she’s done to you, Evening Star,” she said, and Duncan felt his breath gasp, suddenly caught in his throat. That’s what Kenzie called me. Sword of the Evening Star. “Snatched you from the jaws of darkness in this world. And I am moved to see it. As I knew I would be. The time of your High Destiny has come.”

Her hand came around his; her touch was very warm and strong. As she stepped closer Duncan could smell myrrh and resin and musky vanilla. The urge of tears rose in him again--the woman clasped her other hand around his, so she was gripping it in both. Her face was about level to his chin in her heeled boots, and she looked up at him with an approving grace; she seems taller than me, though, he thought. The energy around her is so focused; so carefully, intricately controlled.

“What did you say your name was?” He asked, and heard the trembling in his voice.

“Rosemary Antigone Delacroix. High Priestess of Her Will. The Goddess, from whom all life in this universe flows; from whom the life in every universe flows. Mother of all, three-faced, infinite. Your mother, and mine, and the mother of the High Princess, the Hidden Sphere Herself, whom you are blessed to love. Infinitely blessed, sweet Prince, with whom you will heal this suffering world.”

Goosebumps broke out all over his skin, the tiny hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickling instantly, wildly. I knew it. I felt it. That she’s divine. That she’s holy.

“Please, come in.”

Rosemary’s smile lingered as she stepped past him, scattering its light over him; she moved into the house, beyond the staircase, her steps determined, her movements refined, hands clasped together in front of her, through the front room and towards the kitchen. She seemed to know where it was without needing to ask him, and Duncan followed, mesmerized by her. As they reached the kitchen Rosemary sat at the wooden island, reaching out for his hand again--this time, he knew, for the one that held the weed. He passed it all off to her and she sighed; the sound of her voice was deeply lovely, but he could hear the tinge of tiredness.

“Make me some eggs, would you, sugar? I like ‘em a little runny, lots of butter. And some of that turkey bacon I know you have in the fridge there.” Duncan stared for a moment, blinking as she rolled a big bud in her fingers, then began to sprinkle it inside his grinder. She paused, looking up at him expectantly. “And a big-ass coffee. I’ll pack this bowl. All three of us are going to need some fortification for these revelations.  Don’t you worry, your seer is here. I know you’ve been waiting, I feel it in this house, you filled it with your hopes and dreams and your confusion as soon as you got here. I feel it on your skin. You two have power unlike any I’ve ever seen, but you haven’t learned how to control it yet, that’s for certain. It’s zooming around in this space like it’s been snorting cocaine.”

Duncan turned as if waking out of a dream to the fridge, pulling out the eggs, bacon, and a stick of butter, retrieving a frying pan from a line of them against the wall, listening to the smooth clarity of her voice. Her energy seemed to be settling into the kitchen--dusky purple, warm, steady. He could almost see it, the way he could see Kenzie’s gold sometimes. She was taking the edge off him--bringing him down to her calmness, her certainty.

“So...Rosemary. Who--what--how--” He went to the Keurig that sat on the counter, starting a cup, then brought a hand absently to his chin, looking back at her again. She was deftly packing the bowl to the brim, the smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. “How did you...what did She...”

The Goddess, triple-faced, infinite.

“Shhh, blue-eyed Prince. You need to take it slow. All of this--” she gestured around the kitchen, but Duncan knew she meant all of it--the cabin, the lake, the forest with the clearing of black oaks, the field open to the stars--”this place is potent, full of your power, like a power outlet for your magicks. It’s why they’ve been so strong since you got here. This is an in-between place, and anyone who has even a little bit of the power you two have can feel it. But for the High Princess and her sweet consort, it’s like being given an electric shock--one that goes on and on. It’s the reason your lusts have been so potent, too.”

Duncan blushed at that. Lately, mine always are.

She smiled at him, knowing, then lit the bowl and breathed deeply from it, blowing out in a satisfied stream, leaning back against the wooden island.

“Hoo, that’s some good rich people shit,” she hummed. “Ooph, that’s good. Just what I needed, Praise be to Her. Thank you, Mother.”

Duncan got to work on the eggs, carefully cracking two into the pan and slipping two sides of the bacon next to them, deftly pressing the edges of the egg whites with a steel spatula. The smell made his stomach immediately begin to rumble; she’s right, we definitely need to eat before we get into all of this. All...of what?

“You two.” He could hear Rosemary laughing a little now from where his back was turned. “You two have burst upon the world like a garden. The media was not prepared. The public was not prepared. The world is not prepared, but they will get prepared--real quick. The current of time has turned towards fortune. And that, my dear Prince, is a beautiful thing. Beautiful beyond words. That I have lived to see this time is a great blessing.”

“Rosemary, what do you mean? How did you find us here?”

“Wait for her. For the Princess. The little golden goddess. Then I’ll begin.”

Duncan pulled down a plate and slipped the eggs onto it, a little runny, glassy with butter as she had asked. He flipped the bacon to let it fry for a bit longer, and brought the plate over to Rosemary, who appraised him with power drifting in her gaze. She took it, her warm hand brushing against his again; he felt the current pass through them, felt her strength, the depths of her knowledge touch his mind.

“You’ve been manifesting powers here, have you? And before you got here, too.”

“Fuck, yes. Non-stop, practically. I’ve been--transporting myself with my mind. Teleporting? I don’t know what to call it.”

“Transmutation. Salire per spatium. The ability to move, magically, instantly, from one space to another, without physically occupying the space between.” Rosemary took another long puff from Duncan’s gold pipe, then sliced into an egg with her fork, dipping it between her very white teeth. “Mm, baby. Perfect. You can fry an egg for certain.”

“Yeah. Yes. And Pyrokinesis. That’s what it’s called, right? The ability to conjure fire.”

“Create, control, manipulate. All of it. You can do all of those, I guarantee it. Try it.” She nodded to the stovetop, which Duncan had turned on manually. The bacon was sizzling, done--Duncan took a deep breath, then drifted his fingers close to the element, concentrated. Go back now. Go back. The fire went low, blue-white, and then died--the stovetop began to cool instantly.

“Mm--mm-mm,” Rosemary hummed. “Lovely. I can do a little myself, but nothing so smooth as that. That’s lovely. And I can only imagine what she’s been doing.”

“It’s so beautiful, Rosemary. She is so beautiful. I can’t even tell you…”

“You’re biased, baby blue, but I’m sure you’re right. Any other things you’ve found out you can do?”

“She can sense my emotions over long distances...I found out something I hadn’t known the other day that really upset me, and she felt my emotions even though we were on opposite sides of the city. And...we can read each other’s thoughts. You’re the first person who knows that, and I don’t even know who you are. But...yeah. It’s like colors--she looks and feels like gold...she says mine is blue. I can kind of see mine, sometimes, if the emotion is really strong. Now that she’s here. I couldn’t...I couldn’t do any of this before. Before we met.”

Duncan brought the bacon over to Rosemary’s plate and slid it down from the pan. She immediately dipped a graceful hand to it, blowing on it, crunching it in her teeth. He brought her coffee over, starting one for Kenzie now. “I can hear little bits of other people’s thoughts now sometimes, when they’re really strong. I think Kenzie can do it almost all the time. And she can heal people--their bodies, their hearts, their anger. It looks like gold when she does that, too. She can sort of...press it into people, like she’s wrapping them in a blanket.”

He started more eggs in the pan, silent for a little while as Rosemary sipped her coffee. Then he went on.

“Two nights ago there was a Gala--”

“The Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala, everyone knows that, honey,” Rosemary cut him off. “You two are on the front page of a lot of shit since yesterday.”

Duncan winced, plating the other eggs and getting to work on more bacon. “Really? We turned our phones off before we left. We really wanted to just get away for a few days. It’s been...really intense since Kenzie and I found each other. The scrutiny’s been intense.”

“I understand, Duncan. When my task is done--that is, to tell you your destiny--I’ll be gone, for I have many duties, and you will have a little more time to be alone together. But the Goddess told me what to do, so I’m doing it. When She speaks, everyone best listen. Let me give you a warning. When the two of you go back--back to DC, I mean--the world will have changed. As if time opened a new window. You are on the path now, one heading towards a bright future, not just for you and Mackenzie, but for this universe. There are many--universes, I mean. Not all of them are kind, or light, or good, some of them have no light, and some have a depth of both. This universe has much darkness, but like clouds parting from the sun, your union here will bring transcendent light. As there is a balance of greater darkness in other universes, this one will swing to the light. A major obstacle will have passed when you return, but there will be a new onslaught of attention focused on you and Mackenzie. You will need to be her sword at every turn; you will bow to her light and others will follow your example. So gather your strength.”

Duncan’s head was pounding. What does any of that even mean? Other universes?

“Are you talking about...quantum theory? Like, parallel universes?”

At that moment Duncan heard a soft sound in the doorway--he looked up to see Kenzie coming into the kitchen on bare feet. She was tucking her chestnut-golden hair behind her ear, her face nervously turned down, eyes huge, fingers at her mouth; she wore a floor-length white linen dress, covered in a print of pale pinkish roses, with a dipping neck and short, puffed sleeves. The Tiffany moon glinted at her throat; as she moved her arm the Cartier bracelet flashed there in gold and diamond. Rosemary had turned to her, and Kenzie’s eyes were wide on the other woman. God she’s so beautiful so beautiful so powerful I can feel her lovely power like a field of a thousand violets, like the water flowing out from the sea...Duncan could hear Kenzie’s thoughts falling out of her in a long stream.

Rosemary’s face was cast into an immediate affection--a curious wonder. Her mouth dipped open, away from the black coffee cup which had been poised at her mouth a moment before, and she sighed; the sigh of relief that comes after a long, anticipatory wait.

“Child. Sweet child of heaven.”

“Hi,” Kenzie whispered. She stopped in front of Rosemary, and the woman reached out her beautiful dark fingers. Kenzie slipped her small hands against Rosemary’s; Duncan felt speechless, his heart feeling crushed by the moment, his eyes immediately blurred by tears.

“I am Rosemary Delacroix, and I am a mouthpiece for Her, the three-headed, the absolute, the Goddess. She has many names. Time. The universe. God. Goddess. Fate. Destiny. But she is the one who brought all life to be, kindled it, nurtured it, tended to it. She is the one who remakes life, rebuilds it, cycles it through every age, in every place, in every aspect. She made me; she made you and your sweet blue-eyed Prince from the stars burning like these diamonds, many eons ago.” Rosemary’s finger drifted to the bracelet; her dark eyes glanced up at the one on Duncan’s wrist, knowingly, and he shivered. “She made the thread that tethered you together, Mackenzie Stone and Duncan Shepherd, long ago, before she made Time, because you, sweet High Princess, asked her to. You loved him; you asked to be together always. And she granted your wish. Because you were--you are--beloved in the sight of heaven. You are a High Princess of Her Body, and of the Garden. You are the Hidden Sphere.”

Long, aching tears fell from Kenzie’s cheeks--she glanced over to Duncan, biting her trembling lip, her thoughts crushed gold. I do love him. I do love you, Duncan, more than anything. I do love you. I love you. This woman knows--knows I’m divine, the way you said you knew. The way I can feel it, now, and I can’t find the words.

“It’s fine to cry, honey. It’s fine. You cry as much as you want, mmhm? Come sit with me, angel baby. You come sit with me and let me bask in your sweet light. I can feel it now, like taking a bath in a pool of gold. Goddess, praise be. That’s just fucking lovely. Praise be to Her. She made the masterpiece, sweet sugar, in you--that gold, like a waterfall. What a soul.”

“Duncan’s the one who looks like a masterpiece to me,” Kenzie was laughing a little through her tears, settling down on the bench next to Rosemary, who had dipped a long arm under Kenzie’s elbow to steady her. Duncan brought Kenzie’s breakfast over to her, trying to hide the tears on his cheek with a swift hand--she looked up at him, biting her lip, nodding. “Thanks baby,” she whispered. I love you so much, he heard her thought. I’m not afraid.

“What do you mean, asked to be together always?” Duncan said, his voice trembling. “Are you saying there’s a goddess...that controls the universe, and Kenzie is...what, her daughter?”

Rosemary looked at him for a long moment, her eyes staggering with depth. For a time Duncan felt lost, mesmerized inside them; like the whirling gold galaxies he’d seen in Kenzie’s eyes in the dream, or the blue nebulas she said she saw in his, he felt he could see violet supernovas, cascades of cosmic dust in Rosemary’s gaze for a moment. Something infinite and eternal. Something constant, and huge beyond imagining.

“Make yourself some breakfast first, Duncan. You’re going to need something in your stomach before we really begin. I want both of you to know right now--there is much to tell. It will take some time. My heart is full of all of it. I need your strength, my dear one, to help me tell you everything.” Rosemary pulled Kenzie’s hand into her lap again, gripping it with strong fingers. Kenzie was nodding--a silent, secret thought seemed to pass between them, one Duncan could not see or hear in his mind. He felt immediately frustrated to be cut off from them; then he heard Kenzie speak to him alone in gold waves: be patient, baby, beloved, be patient, okay? Take a breath, the kind you showed me after my nightmare, when you held me so sweetly.

Their eyes met; Rosemary’s gaze shifted between them. Okay baby, Duncan thought, breathing in through his nose, holding it, breathing out. He turned back to his eggs, his stomach in knots.

“To be near both of you gives me strength already.” Rosemary’s face clouded with emotion; she seemed close to tears, and raised the coffee cup to her face again to gather her composure. “The Goddess has made all things in perfect balance, the light and dark, the day and night, and both of you--the perfect balance of these things, the great duality of her creations. To be here with you is to behold her Wonders. Eat, child.” Rosemary gestured to Kenzie’s plate, and Kenzie nodded, picking up a piece of the bacon, biting into it. Duncan brought his own breakfast over to the island, and sat carefully, across from her, reaching out his hand. Kenzie took it, her eyes wildly bright.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst, Dunny, she thought.

Mine too, my sweet Kenzie. Oh, god. Goddess. Whoever is listening. The Fates who have been guiding us…

“Rosemary,” Duncan said, looking into the woman’s dark eyes. “Since we met, I keep going back to this one image, of the Fates, you know, like in mythology--Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos. I keep seeing them in my mind’s eye, seeing them weaving this thread for us, the one that brought us together. Does that mean something?”

Rosemary finished the food on her plate, sighed a little, contentedly, and brought his gold pipe up to her lips again, breathing deeply. She dipped a hand under her chin, her eyes taking on a serene expression.

“It’s Her. She is the Fates. The Goddess--She has three faces. Many know Her by them, and worship Her in these aspects, She has many names. She is three-headed in that way; She is never totally the same from one moment to the next. When She came to me this time, She was very young and beautiful--Her skin like the tanned sand under a long sun--Her eyes bright in unbroken joy, her body smooth. But She does not always appear this way. Her aspect is ever-changing, the color of Her skin, Her hair, Her eyes, Her face; when I see Her, I feel it is Her, for She never appears the same. Sometimes She is very old, and sometimes She is a mother, her belly swollen, and sometimes She is not a woman at all, not entirely--She is some other great thing, made of stars and strange matter. I’ve seen Her this way, in dreams.”

She passed the pipe to Kenzie, and Kenzie took it in her small hands, head dipping to breathe in from it. Kenzie was still crying--Duncan’s fingers slid over her palm, sending the strongest wave of comfort he could into her. I love you, baby, I love you, everything is okay, everything’s going to be okay, better than okay…

“The Fates are her aspects--all three are Her. You thought of them because you thought of Her--because you knew, you know it was She who brought the two of you together. Your destiny--the High Destiny, as it has been called--was written when the stars were new. Mackenzie Stone, you are the High Princess of her Heaven. You were an Angel, once, Exalted; there is no earthly word for what you were, but an Angel is the closest word to it. You were the most divine of all. You were loved above all by Her in her heaven; and you still are. I know you feel that, child. I know you know you were loved so. And that you are loved--so much. Her eyes have looked down on you from her heaven and thought Beloved, for millions of years.”

“Yes,” and Kenzie was crying earnestly, her lips trembling as she spoke, shoulders shaking, eyes awash in tears. “Yes, Rosemary, I know. I can feel it.” Duncan gripped her hand tightly, aching to hold her; her fingers clutched him, like he was her only tether in a vast ocean.

“Before conceivable time, you fell in love.” Rosemary nodded to Duncan. “You fell in love with him. Listen to me, Duncan: you too were an Exalted being, an Angel, like Mackenzie. They called you the Sword of the Evening Star, as She has told me. You were a Knight--like a Knight, a Prince in the service of Their holy protection--of Her Holy Court; the fairest of all of her Knights, who are very fair indeed, fair beyond earthly eyes. There is a great Darkness in the universe--in the pantheon of universes. It aches to snuff out the light of Her Heaven, the love that dwells there. Some call it the Devil; Satan; Lucifer. He--It--has many names. But It is mostly the Darkness; the energy that must juxtapose her Light. It wishes, eternally, to destroy Her. But her Knights hold it at bay; her fighters, her warriors, her faithful. In that age, you fought for Her Light, and prevailed many times. She loves you very much. She chose you from many to lead the protection of her Sphere; the Heaven she made, long ago. It is Hidden from that Darkness, made safe through the power of her Grace. Get me some water, Duncan, honey.”

Duncan stood, feeling dizzy, going to the fridge. A Knight for a Goddess. A Warrior Prince. He couldn’t even feel incredulous--he was beyond disbelief. Whatever Rosemary is saying is true, he knew. She knows everything--and she has to tell us. My inability to understand doesn’t make any of this impossible. It just makes my ability to conceive it inadequate.

“Each time you are reincarnated--yes, Mackenzie, reincarnated--” Rosemary said, as Kenzie let out a tiny gasp. “The Darkness, in His cunning, tries to get at you. Sometimes, He has succeeded. As there is Feminine energy in the universes, there is also Masculine energy; there is an endless battle of wills, balance of energies. Their duality is not fixed, rather it shifts and changes from universe to universe, age to age. Yes, Duncan, quantum theory, as it’s called--there are many parallel universes next to this one. Infinite universes, in fact, beyond our ability to conceive. A version of you--both of you--exists in each universe. And as there are many universes, there are many lives you have lived before this one, in this universe, as well. There is another life you have glimpsed here, a life you lived in the past--”

“The Mirror,” Kenzie said, softly. Her eyes were staring into Rosemary’s face, but Duncan could see that her thoughts were fixated on the vast golden Mirror he knew was resting silently in the penthouse bedroom, many miles away, a relic to a past that had been unknown to them until this moment. Frederick knew, he thought. He may not have totally understood, but he knew it was special, that it was magical, and that it was always ours.

“Yes, chickadee, sweet honey,” Rosemary sipped her coffee again, cradling it in her graceful red-nailed hands. “That Mirror belonged to you in another life--you were royalty then, a Viscountess, a powerful witch--that is, a seer for Her--at that time too, with many of the skills you are manifesting now. And in that time you found each other as well, but there was an accident; you both were murdered in the Revolution at that time, in the streets of Paris. And so time turned to another place, another page--and your spirits moved on. But the Mirror has magick. It’s no ordinary Mirror. There are strands of the Golden Sphere in it; strands of the divine instrument given to you by the Goddess, Mackenzie, when you were in her Heaven, in her embrace. A gift that symbolized her love, and her Heaven, which will always be your home. When you were cast to earth when the Law of Time was written, the Sphere fell with you, but it was mostly destroyed when the Darkness tried to rend it. What remained--the fragments left over--were made into the Mirror by one of her seers of old; a disciple of her Light, as I am. And so it will always find you in this world, too, for it cannot be destroyed until this world ends.”

Duncan was standing beside the fridge, still holding it open, the water glass poised in his hand, frozen in her words. Kenzie gaped at Rosemary with her mouth dipped open, her golden hair falling around her cheeks. Rosemary glanced between them, then beckoned to Duncan, and said.

“But that is the Law for the two of you. To exist, always, and find each other, always, into eternity, until the Law of Time is over, when you will return to the Sphere of her Grace. No one knows when that will be, or if it will ever be. That I do not know. I only see small bits and pieces of the future, and their shape is always strange to me.”

Duncan’s hand was shaking as he brought the glass he’d filled to Rosemary--but her hand was steady, and she smiled up at him, reassuringly. I think for now I just need to listen, and try to understand, he thought. I can’t even imagine anything to say. Just please hold my hand, baby.

Kenzie reached out again as he sat, twining her fingers through his tightly. She brought another slice of bacon to her lips, eating despite her tears. Duncan moved his fork to his plate, resolved to the same. They ate quietly as Rosemary went on. What else can we do.

“You met, as was meant to happen, in the Garden of All Delights, where the known universes were all born. It’s a very beautiful place--beautiful beyond all conceivable beauty to our pitiful human eyes. It’s made of colors--oh, colors you can’t imagine.”

Those colors I saw in my dreams.

“Like this universe, Duncan, when you laid eyes on Mackenzie there, the first time, you knew she was your love for all time. There you stayed together for eons by our measure of time. The Goddess saw, and She smiled to see your perfect happiness--the selflessness of your love for Her Princess, Her Joy, Her Golden Child, and Her selfless love for you, the perfect embodiment of Her Grace. Your Names, in that perfect state--there aren’t words for them. She didn’t tell them to me, and if She had I could not speak of them. But you know them, in your secret, hidden hearts. They are beyond all human language. I know She’s shown you the forms you had then in a dream--and so you know those forms are beyond human comprehension, nearly beyond description. Please know that those are your true forms. There is more time before you adopt them again, but someday you will return to them again. In some other age.”

Yes, Duncan thought; he knew. Kenzie with her white-gold hair with a thousand flowers, each one a universe. Her eyes like golden galaxies. Her clothing made of impossible geometry. Her wings inconceivable and more delicate than those of any beast on earth. He could feel Kenzie thinking similarly of what she had seen of him in her side of the dream; his long golden hair and eyes like blue nebulas floating in ether, his shining aegis, impossibly slender and delicate, the strange wonder of his own wings.

“When the laws of the universe, of Time, were written, it was dictated that you--you, Mackenzie, and you, Duncan, would always find each other. In every conceivable universe, and every conceivable age. The Goddess, infinite in Her wisdom and mercy, could not spare you from the Great Law--the law of pain, death, and rebirth--but She could ensure that as the cycle of all things goes on, you would find each other in perpetuity. That you would never long be parted from one another. And Her law has been proven true, as it ever was, in Her Grace. I promise you, in every time, in every age, in every universe, you’ve found each other; for the places in which you haven’t yet, you will. And each time either of you dies--for you have both died countless deaths, as I have, as every living soul has--the cycle begins anew. You cannot long be separated. The Old Law of your love--the Great Love, true as dawn--is known and honored for all time.”

“You mean--Rosemary, do you really mean--we’ll always find each other, no matter what?” Duncan clutched at Kenzie’s fingers as he spoke, looking between them.

“No matter what, I promise you. You were the first Soulmates; in your love was written the Law.”

Duncan took the golden pipe from Kenzie’s hands, which were shaking like leaves in caught in a strong wind--he could see his own shaking too, but felt strangely removed from them, lost in the incomprehensibility of Rosemary’s words. He lit the bowl, breathing deeply, holding the smoke inside his lungs for a long moment--it settled into them, and he breathed out, counting. 1, 2, 3, 4...he handed the bowl, still lit, to Kenzie, who breathed from it again. Her tears seemed to dissipate, soften, her shaking fading into calm stillness.

“Rosemary, can we go outside? There’s a gazebo out there--it’s lovely. We can look at the lake. I think Kenzie needs some fresh air.” Kenzie glanced at Duncan with eyes filled with overwhelming affection as he said this. Rosemary nodded, her aspect calming, soothing, and seemingly unbothered by the weight of her words. This is truly a woman of exquisite power. “You bring that bowl, honey.” She reached for Kenzie’s hand and helped her up.

They all made their way out onto the deck and down the stone path, to where the gazebo lay in the pleasing solitude of the early afternoon. Duncan could see a flock of ducks swimming on the surface of the middle of the lake, beyond where the canoe creaked with a pleasant rhythm; there were more clouds in the sky today than yesterday, but it was still bright and warm, the breeze present again. Rosemary helped Kenzie onto one end of the long couch; Kenzie’s face was pale and her hands still seemed to be trembling. Rosemary moved to the other end, and Duncan knew innately she was leaving them space. Space to be together; to hold each other. He felt a wave of gratitude wash out from him towards the beautiful seer, this woman who had appeared as if out of thin air, by magic, in a car that had driven for an entire day, from thousands of miles away, to tell them impossible truths. He felt Rosemary’s drifting indigo-violet energy come against his, and knew she acknowledged his secret power, and his gratitude, as he acknowledged hers.

He slid next to Kenzie, his arms coming around her tightly, his nose falling against her hair to breathe her in. Roses, vetiver, geranium. Her own underlying musk, the heady scent of her and her alone. Kenzie’s head fell against his chest, her arms gripping him at the waist. Kenzie, we’ll always find each other, no matter what. I could die, I could shout into the sky, I could cry and never stop crying. My heart is full of you. My happiness in this knowledge is absolute. Kenzie seemed beyond words, but the drift of her gold against him was so staggeringly lovely, so intense, he fought to breathe. My Persephone. Flower of the universe.

“Now. There’s a lot more She told me to tell you. Listen carefully, my sweet moon children,” and Duncan heard Kenzie’s thought, like a memory, two moon children in love--

“As I told you a little bit ago--there is a great Darkness in the universe, in the pantheon of universes. As She is older than Time, so is the Darkness. He--It--has a far-reaching hand. You know that Darkness in this world; but this world, unlike others, does not have the depth of power that allows it full sway. The magic in this universe is not as vast as it is in others; here it exists in the hidden aspects. Your coming together has brought some of that magic to life here, but it is finite, and it has limits. There are other universes where your power is stronger, but the Darkness is stronger in those universes, too.”

“We’ve been having these dreams...” Kenzie said in a small voice. The air seemed to be soothing her; the breeze ruffled her hair as Duncan’s hands drifted against its softness.

Rosemary was nodding. “The Darkness had you in its grip here, Duncan, and it was attempting to tighten that grip. Your family in this world, its notoriety, its intentions--they have long been conspiring with the Darkness, long been courting its gifts. Your adopted mother, your uncle; they have done terrible things in the name of their own desires, and they wished to drag you into the shadows with them. They almost succeeded; you were almost fooled. But the Old Law prevailed, as it always does, one way or another. That Law is Love; that Law is Mackenzie; that Law is your High Destiny. The Goddess knew that your love would defeat that Darkness every time. And it always will. The Law she wrote is strong and it will hold. But the means by which it holds is never clear until you meet.”

Rosemary had brought her water glass out with them, and sipped at it for a moment, pausing. Her face turned to the lake; as she gazed at it, she smiled, but her smile had some sadness threaded into it. It was a smile that knew the bittersweet taste of life--knew the balance was impregnable.

“There are universes where your ending is not a happy one, I’m afraid. Despite finding each other, you don’t always get to be together this way. You suffer acutely in some; you die. But the death is written too--the death comes at your own hands, or you die together. It’s the Law; if you cannot be together, you must begin again, which means you first must be taken out of that time, the obstacle therefore removed. Duncan, I must tell you; there are universes where the Darkness claims you. And in some of them, in some of those lives, you cannot be saved but through death.”

Duncan felt a heavy hand settle on his heart--felt the breath drift out of his body as he gasped for air. Kenzie held him closer, and he heard the tiny sound of her sob against him. Oh baby, sweet Kenzie, please don’t cry so. Don’t cry for me that way. I love you. Here, we’re together. Please don’t cry. It breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.

“Is that what the dreams mean?” he asked, cradling Kenzie’s shivering body against his. He felt the terrible heat of her tears soaking through his shirt, her face turned into him, hidden, overcome.

“Yes. They are another life. Another universe. One where your ending is not a happy one. One where Kenzie’s love saves you; as it did here, as it ever does; but not to such happy ends, I’m afraid. It’s just one example of the window of infinite lives you have lived, lives you are living as we speak, in other places, in other universes. That life, that universe, is particularly potent. The magick there is much stronger than the magick here. It encircles that world like a dense fog; it surrounds it and seeps into everything. There you have powers beyond imagining, both of you. The power to raise the dead. The power to turn time backwards. The power to change the shape of things; things that should otherwise be immutable. Or destroy them entirely, completely--utterly.”

“Blue butterflies out of rose petals,” Kenzie whispered. “You making snow, Duncan.”

“Yes,” he whispered against her hair. You, Kenzie, blood on your mouth, turning back time.

“The power to travel to Hell, even, Descensum; to the pit of Darkness. Because there, Duncan, you are a being of Darkness. In that world, you are Michael, the Son of Darkness--in that world, the Darkness claimed you when you were born into it, and the Goddess cannot reach you. There, you are a powerful conjurer, a warlock, and Kenzie--Mallory, as you are called there--you are a powerful witch, in fact, the most powerful of all witches in that world, more powerful than the witches of any other world. A Supreme. Kenzie does not save you in life in that world, however; but through your death. So it is written.”

Duncan felt unable to speak; I think I knew that. I think I knew, when I had that dream on the beach, the dream where I was dying, and grandma told me to go to Hell. And Kenzie was there, her hair dark on her shoulders, she was that other version of herself, the Mallory self, and she held me, and I died.

“My nightmare,” Kenzie burst into a sob again, the wail in her voice making Duncan bury his face, his eyes closing, against her hair, making his heart clench until he felt as though he would suffocate in the agony of her sadness. “My nightmare. That man with your face, Duncan--that man was you in that place, that man was you, consumed, that was real, oh, no, oh no, no--”

Duncan couldn’t think, couldn’t speak; could only hold her, his heart pressed down with the depth of her sadness, determined to hold her as long as she needed him to. Even for that other me, the depth of her grace is staggering. The immensity of her love. I feel lost inside it; it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever felt. Whatever darkness is in me, no matter where I am, who I am, it’s nothing next to her light. I know that. Absolutely. I’d die a thousand times for you, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven. A million times. I’ll die for eternity to be with you for just a moment. That, I promise you. I swear it. I will worship and love you endlessly, as I promised to, when we were Exalted--as we will be again one day. I know I will always recognize your soul.

“Sweet golden child of Her Grace,” Rosemary said, staring at Kenzie with violet, soothing warmth. “Do not despair--there is no need for it. You save him in every world. Your love is what saves him. Reach out with your heart into every hidden place. You know it’s true. There is no place your love cannot reach him. And death is not the end. In her Will, it is never really the end. And here--” Rosemary gestured out onto the lake, to the sky beyond. “Here, in this world, in this life, you’ve been infinitely blessed. In this world, you get to be together; truly together. And not only that. Not only have you found each other, basked in each other, found a haven hidden from the eyes of the world in which to feed each other in power and affection. In this world you have been given even more, for the Goddess does not take away in one world what she doesn’t bestow again in another. Here, you have worldly riches, too, is that not so?”

Yes.

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered. “That was our destiny all along, too, wasn’t it?”

Rosemary gazed at him, and her expression was omniscient in the stretch of this moment; it kindled his spirit up, thrilling his nerves, achingly beautiful against his soul. Yes. That was the plan all along. That not only would you heal each other infinitely, here; you would, together, heal this world, and that, too, would be your happiness.

Kenzie had begun to quiet against him; she turned her tear-stained face up to him, and her eyes glittered unbearably in the afternoon light: gold, russet forest, green like growing leaves.

“The High Destiny,” she whispered. Duncan brought his hand up, wiping under her eyes, pressing the dampness into his shirt, cradling her face.

“Yes, sweet golden honey.” Rosemary was grinning; her face was effervescent in its beauty. She reached for the golden pipe again from where Duncan had set it on the low table beside the lantern, raising it languidly to her chin. “Praise be to Her, in whose eyes all is made clear and wondrous, three-faced, sweet as blessed wine. Your High Destiny is to bring a long peace into this world. And when others in this world behold you together, that is what they see. Your divinity, your goodness, and their redemption.” Duncan continued to look down at Kenzie--she stared at him with a dawning happiness spreading over her face that made him clutch her cheek, dip his mouth to kiss her, uncaring that Rosemary watched--Kenzie, my Kenzie, oh my Kenzie--

Rosemary breathed in another long drag of the gold pipe. Then she continued to speak, her legs crossed with ease, her hand drifting against her many necklaces, thumb trailing at the obsidian, the raven skull.

“I know what’s coming, what’s at the door; by the time you return to the Capital City, Bill Shepherd will have been dead for a day. Yesterday, he signed his Will, at Annette Shepherd’s behest. Duncan: you are now the sole heir of Shepherd Unlimited and all its holdings. Bill Shepherd, as is his way, has over $15 billion dollars in overseas assets that he hasn’t been filing with his taxes. Those assets will be yours in a few hours’ time. With Shepherd Unlimited LLC and the tools at its disposal, it is your High Destiny, Duncan and Mackenzie, to heal this world.”

“Fuck,” Duncan whispered.

“Holy shit,” he felt Kenzie grip his shirt with her little tear-stained hands. “Duncan, oh my goddess. We knew. We felt it all along. We felt our destiny.”

“And Praise be to Her,” Rosemary said, and then she laughed; she laughed long and low, and her voice was like honey, and it seemed to fall into Duncan’s mind like a crashing, heady wine. Her laugh rang out onto the lake, stirring the ducks to flight; as they flapped up from the water, the sun dappled in their water-flecked wings, turning to patterns of gold.

-------

It was late now, the light growing low as it had the night before, gradually then all at once, and Duncan had conjured another fire in the copper pit. This one, if anything, was even brighter and more beautiful than the one before; it was almost transparent, burning wildly high and hot, kindled in the euphoria of his mood. Now that he knew the powers they had were real, not only real, but destined, he felt confident in the ability to strengthen them; felt confident in their reality. I’ve been blessed, and so I’ll use my blessings. I can see the shape of these powers now, their outline like a lingering vision after a bright burst of light. I was destined to have them, and so I’ll use them as wisely as I can.

They had all smoked so much of the weed through the rest of the afternoon he had begun to feel untethered from his body, lost in the softness of Kenzie’s touch, the sweet smell of the space under her ear and along her neck. Rosemary didn’t seem to mind, skillfully ignoring them as they kissed again and again, drifted their hands along each other lazily through the rest of the afternoon. Duncan felt split between his gratitude towards Rosemary and the intensity of his desire for Kenzie--he had been fighting off the urge to slide his hand up her bare leg under the dress for hours, and as he sat in one of the wicker chairs by the fire, watching Kenzie and Rosemary dance a few paces away on the lawn amid the fireflies, the strains of Redbone’s Witch-queen of New Orleans pumping through the outdoor speakers, he sent out drifts of his deep need towards her. She was spinning in the long rosy dress, her chin tilted up and the diamond moon flashing on her neck, his black cardigan falling off one of her shoulders--her hair was tossed by wind and sweat glinted at her temples, and all he could think of was how radiantly lovely she was; High Princess of Heaven, Goddess of the Golden Bower, Angel of the Hidden Sphere, my High Destiny, forevermore, everlong, no worship is ever enough. And now you’re going to marry me. And I know what kind of ring I’m going to give you. A moonstone. My moon, everlasting.

She’ll put a spell on you, she’ll put a spell on you

He tried to contemplate the wonder of everything that had happened in the past two days; of the past few weeks. It’s truly only been a few weeks? It felt like years, and also like no time at all, like hours. He tried to contemplate the immensity of time they’d loved each other, and the smallness of the time they’d been able to love each other in this present--felt too lost in it, had to move his thoughts away. He tried to conjure up the image of the Fates in his mind, knowing now that it was Her, aspects of Her, the spectrum of Her face. Too stoned, sorry. Just wanna fuck my baby. So fucking much. Forgive me, Goddess. He grinned to himself, into his hand. I know you do. I can feel that you forgive me.

Tho' she'll never return all the Cajuns knew, a witch-queen never dies

Kenzie and Rosemary were gripping each other’s arms now, whirling in a circle, both laughing uproariously. Kenzie tumbled to the ground, throwing her head back and laughing up into the sky, bleeding out into blue darkness. Rosemary clutched her belly and laughed up at the sky too.

“Oh Goddess, to be alive,” she crowed. Duncan looked up to her from his seat, grinning. Rosemary had told them the story that afternoon of how she had found the Goddess when she was young--had gone into a cave in the swamps of New Orleans as a young girl, finding a bower of strange golden flowers growing there, had had a vision of Her, as an old woman, wizened with the ages and also inconceivable, told her of her power to conjure and to incite light in others, kindle their dreams and hopes, their destinies. Another Thin Place, he thought, like that balcony, or our circle of oaks. They had made more of the chicken and other vegetables in the cooker, a charcuterie spread out on the deck table, and had been nibbling at it for a hours between the weed and glasses of wine--now the day was hazy and drifting away, and Duncan felt lost in the happiness of it; absolutely found in it. Rosemary tumbled herself into one of the wicker chairs across from him, her feet dipping up over one of the arms. She gazed into the fire, a serene expression in her eyes.

“Evening Star, you sure can make one hell of a fire,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed. “It smells so sweet and feels so nice on my poor aching bones, thank you very much. The Goddess knows I put the work in since yesterday to find y’all, now she’s giving me a break, and Blessed Be.”

“Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you for everything. Thank you for coming all this way--for telling us everything. Who we are. What we’re meant to do.” Kenzie had heaved herself up from the ground and was skipping over to him, throwing herself into his lap and lifting her mouth up to kiss him as he spoke. He cradled her little body against him; her eyes glittered, her thoughts achingly sweet. To be held by you, baby, is the sweetest and most beautiful of anything. My Evening Star. My Hades who I plucked from darkness. You owe me so many kisses.

Oh I do, do I-- He dipped his mouth down onto hers again; he could feel Rosemary’s eyes on them, slitted, an adoration and pride in her aspect that he could feel as though it were visible. He knew she thought they were infinitely beautiful--the thought was a feeling of warm violet that emanated out from her; and I agree, if only because being loved and loving her so much has made me beautiful from within, he thought. I can feel the beauty in everything because of her.

“Rosemary,” and Kenzie turned her face away, looking over at the other woman’s beautiful cocoa skin, shimmering like soft copper in the firelight.

“Yes, golden honey,” Rosemary murmured, turning her face up a little, her eyes closed from tiredness, peaceful in the quiet of the crackling fire.

“What do the thin places mean?”

“Thin places?” Rosemary’s eyes opened a little, meeting her eyes.

“In the woods there’s a clearing. It’s surrounded by these huge black oak trees, and they’re all growing together, in a weird, tight circle. Inside it are so many wildflowers,” Kenzie laid her head on Duncan’s chest, under his chin, “and they’re growing in a spiral, like, I dunno, like they mean something, time or the universe, something like that. We were there yesterday, and…”

Kenzie blushed, trailing off.

“You fucked there.”

“Yeah. And it was strange--I mean, it felt like--Dunny, how would you describe it--”

“Like we were untethered from the earth for a little while,” Duncan said, his hand drifting against Kenzie’s thigh, under her breast, holding her against him, gazing into the fire. “Like we were in some kind of between place. Between this world and another one.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose the Thin Places, as you say, have many names. I call them The Veil, because they aren’t really places as much as doorways, gateways, the between of one place and another. The Goddess has tethered every universe together with threads--energy that passes from one place to another, acting as a bridge--and sometimes the threads wear thin; I suppose Thin Place is a well-suited name. As you are so close to your divinity still, these places are more obvious to you than to other people.”

“The night we met, we were on this balcony, with all these roses, and I think it was one of those places,” Kenzie was murmuring, eyes glittering on him, close to tears again. “It was thin--I could see him, Rosemary. I could see into his soul. I knew how beautiful he was inside. It was like a lamp shining out of a lighthouse. He said hi and he was looking at me like he knew me, like he hadn’t seen me in a long time and had missed me. And my heart just--stopped. I felt like he had set me on fire, wonderful fire, like this.” She looked at the fire Duncan had made--made with my mind, my senses, my will, for you. His heart twinged, reached out for her.

“The heart knows what nothing else can tell you,” Rosemary murmured, her voice growing soft again in her sleepiness. “It was only a matter of time before you found each other again.”

“Sometimes I think I see a golden thread between us,” Duncan said softly.

“The Goddess has tethered you this way. Since you are so close to her--because she loves you both so dearly--you can see the innerworkings of her magicks sometimes. They are not conceivable to human eyes. You’re feeling them. For all her works speak to the inner self, the hidden senses.”

“Rosemary,” Kenzie started again, and then Duncan heard the tears in her voice, cutting her words off. Her face turned into the crook of his arm--he felt her cheek shuddering there.

“Shh, Kenz, it’s okay, Kenzie,” he whispered into her. She nodded.

“Rosemary, thank you.”

But Rosemary didn’t reply--she was sleeping softly now, her chest rising and falling slowly, her hand dipped under her jaw. She was magnificently beautiful in the glossy sheen of the firelight, her dark skin illuminated, her sunset-colored scarf glowing, her obsidian and quartz stones shimmering, feet bare now, and grass-stained; she looks like a painting, Duncan thought, oh that Waterhouse had painted her, Rosemary Antigone Delacroix, who has given us so much joy in so little time. Thank you, Rosemary. Thank you. Now, we’ll let you sleep. I only hope I can give you something in return--and soon. You and everyone who has surrounded us, helped us, comforted us, shielded us.

“Princess Kenzie, let’s go upstairs,” he murmured into her ear. Kenzie’s eyes turned up to him, her mouth dipping open. Her hair fell down behind his arm, a sheet of gold. He felt wildly awake; acutely aware of the softness and the scent of her. He pressed his mouth against her ear. “I want you so much. Take a bath with me, angel. Please?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, a laugh playing at her mouth. “Okay, but I wanna read stories to each other after we fuck. You have to promise we can read stories after.”

“We can read stories for as long as you want, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“What should we do, baby--about everything? We already know what’s going to happen. Rosemary told us. When we go back--”

“Shhh,” and he pressed his mouth, shivering, aching, against hers, intent to worship her, pulling her chin up insistently to reach her, his hands falling against the sweet softness of the dress over her breast. “Tonight, let’s just think about how divine we are, and how lucky we are, and how beautiful the night is, and how beautiful everything is, the stars, the lake, and you--” and she was nodding into him, climbing up to straddle him, the firelight licking its shadows against her hair, over her skin. “And you, baby,” she whispered. “My Evening Star. Goddess, I love that--”

“I’m gonna find you the most beautiful garden house on earth, Princess Kenzie,” he was whispering into her throat, his tongue licking out to the sweet saltiness of her sun-kissed sweat there, and he knew he meant it, knew he wouldn’t stop until he found it, “and together we’re gonna plant the most beautiful garden and so many flowers you can use them for a bed, and I’ll get you as many horses as you want, and I’ll read to you every night, kiss you a thousand times every day in our bed of a hundred of the softest blankets on earth, Kenzie, my golden goddess--”

“I want so many flowers for our wedding, baby,” she was murmuring against his mouth, the supple feeling of her skin driving unbearable waves of heat into his cock now. “I want a hundred dark red roses to hang over our bed between all the wildflowers, flowers in our hair, please, baby, please?”

“Fuck, baby, a thousand flowers, as many as your heart desires, I love you, anything you want, my flower of the universe, my Princess of the Garden of All Delights--fuck, baby, I wanna see it, I wanna see that garden in heaven, where we used to love each other, for eons, Rosemary said, eons--”

Kenzie was laughing against the tickle of his mouth as he groaned into her, standing and gripping her to him under her thighs, his hands finally (fuck, finally, no offense Rosemary) on her bare skin there under the long dress. Kenzie wrapped her arms around his neck and he carried her up to the deck, eagerly turning his chin up to her where her face hovered above him, needy for her kisses.

“I never wanna leave,” Kenzie whispered into him, and he shuddered, pulling her closer, so close the pattering of her heartbeat was flush against his chest, her hair falling against his cheeks. “I wanna run away into the woods with you, into our secret circle of oaks, baby, let’s just stay here and fuck in the field and in the trees and throw away our clothes and worship the Goddess under the starlight until the world ends--”

“But She has shit for us to do, angel, we gotta save the world--” and he was laughing against her as he stumbled with her near the stairs. Kenzie slipped out of his arms (how does she do that) and ran up the stairs away from him before he could grab her wrist--”we gotta save the world, Miss Stone--”

The weed was sweet inside him still, and he thought, The Fates are the Goddess and the Goddess is the Fates, and even if I have darkness in me, so does everything, so does everyone--I know I’ve chosen the light now, and that’s all that matters, I know it was my choice all along--I’ve found my sweet Kenzie, and nothing can fucking hurt me, nothing, nothing can fuck with us, baby--I can’t wait to kiss you with a thousand roses around us and the evening light and the sweet sound of music, slip your moonstone on your little finger and kiss your sweet hands with the tattoo of all my love--

He ran through the bedroom, seeing the little slip of her shoulder, the wave of her hair, the flick of the hem of her long linen dress disappearing through the bathroom door. Kenzie slammed it behind her and he heard the lock click into place. He fell against it, groaning, jiggling the handle to no avail.

“Baby, fuck, ughhh, lemme in, please.”

He could hear her giggling, hear the copper tub’s faucet turn on, its sweet low drift and the sound of her little movements, her tiny laughter kindling a needle of heat into his groin. My angel of heaven. Have mercy.

“I just realized something, Kenzie.”

She fell silent behind the door, as if pausing--for a little while he only heard the faucet running. The bedroom was bathed in low, golden light, and his eyes fell on Cupid’s flower crown in the painting, the tenderness with which he kissed Psyche’s cheek.

“I’ve loved you for thousands of years.”

There was another long pause. He pressed his head against the door, closed his eyes. I have, haven’t I. I really have, When I saw you on the balcony that night, I felt the immensity of time. I knew that it had always been you.

The door opened suddenly and he stumbled through it; Kenzie was throwing her arms around him, making him stumble further, against her this time (oh thank Goddess), and then she was pressing him harshly into the bathroom wall, her hands insistent, demanding. He was leaning down to her, trying to wrap his arms around her, but she pressed them down, her hand drifting to his jaw, clenching there.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“You’d die for me.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Would you assassinate someone for me?” She laughed at this, her words hovering between facetiousness and seriousness, and her smile melted at his heart, made him desperate for her.

“If I had to, yes.” Duncan’s answer was serious, and they both knew it; he stared at her, his eyes unwavering, and saw her lips fall from the smile, saw that she could see the ache of him, insatiable, unending, for her.

“Look at the bruises you left on me.”

Kenzie lifted the linen dress up over her head, edging out of his reach as he tried to grip her. He realized she was naked underneath it and heard the tiny reverberation of his moan, following after her. She turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and Duncan groaned to see the dark bruises he’d left on her asscheeks, the product of his own hands. He kneeled, aching regret pressing on him, and cupped her at the top of her thighs, drifting his mouth down to the bruises, whispering against her.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I love you so much--”

“I love them,” she whispered. “I love the marks you leave on me. I asked for them and I love them and I want more. I don’t care how long we’ve been together in the past, it still only feels like it’s been a few weeks now and I want more. The marks from your hands and your lips, your attention, your love--I want more, more, more--” Kenzie was leaning back into his hands now, against the wet, open dip of his mouth, her hair brushing along his head. She turned and his face hovered right over her cunt--Duncan dragged her against him, opening his lips further, cupping them into the lips of her sex, turning her hips under his hands and pressing her into the wall. Kenzie’s arms drifted above her, up the wall’s incline, hands reaching heavenward, her back arching, leaning into him; Duncan pulled her thigh up so her knee rested against his shoulder, and held his tongue to her shivering clit, eliciting a long, drifting moan from her mouth turned upward.

The scent of her was rich with summery sweat and the salty gathering of her arousal, and it made Duncan feel as though he were drifting out into some ether, unchained from the earth, as if they were back in the black oak circle, between worlds.

“Baby,” she was humming, “how are we gonna know what to do? To change the world? What are we supposed to do with the company? Like--how--unnnh--” her words bled out as he drifted his tongue back and forth between her clit and the opening of her cunt, urgent and concentrated. No more worrying tonight, Kenzie, just be here with me, let me worship you…

“Mmhmm, baby, uhhuh,” she whined, and he knew she’d heard him, felt the bluish drift of his comforting thought. I’ve missed tasting your sweetness here, angel, I wanna build an altar to your sweet cunt alone, its secret places, curves, hidden clefts, the rich singularity of its scent. I’m gonna eat you out every fucking day for the rest of our lives. He pulled his tongue back, pressing his lips around her clit, sucking carefully, strongly, looking up with languid patience to the shadow over her face as her head fell down, her hands drifting from where they had stretched along the wall to his cheeks, his forehead, the curves of his eyelids, through the sides of his hair, and Duncan had to close them now, for fear he would die inside her eyes--that his heart would simply stop with the glorious weight of her (you Kenzie you my universe and I turn around you, I am your moon spinning around your earth, and when we end we begin again, when we die, we are reborn to each other--).

“Fuck, Duncan,” and Kenzie was biting into her lip, eyes falling closed, her body smooth and hot and terribly soft under his long hands, the wetness at his mouth an insistent undoing, the telltale trembling beginning in her thighs, “I think I’m gonna come already, sorry, baby, I can’t, god, that feels so fucking good, you’re too beautiful, annhh--” and he was shaking his head, rebounding his tongue against her, hands clutching at the bruises along her ass, fingers digging against them so she gasped in the half-patina of pleasure and pain--come for me, come as soon as you want to, as much as you want, as constant, for I will worship you always and my devotion will not end, Mackenzie Stone, High Princess of Heaven, yours is the one true beauty, the gold that you hold in the center of your soul--then, with a pilling satisfaction that urged heat into his groin, he heard the high, lilting sound of her voice crying up in her ecstasy (“Dunny, fu-u-uck-k, my Pri-ince, Evening Star, my fucking baby, unnnnh--”), the sound of the water filling the copper tub crashing against her and drowning out her drawn whimpers, and he thought of Sirens, singing on rocks in the sea, mesmerizing to sailors, causing them to plunge to the depths with desire. My Kenzie, sing to me. Sing your pleasure out for my ears alone.

She quieted, her breath heaving, her legs shaking against him, her cunt twinging--he pressed another long, adoring lick between the lips, shivering with wetness from his mouth and her deep orgasm, then he stood, her hands drifting from his hair to his shoulders to his stomach, his height enveloping her, as it ever was. He brought his arms down around her and Kenzie began to work at his shirt, pushing his pants and briefs to the floor, his mouth, damp with her sex, tasting at hers with lazy need. He lowered his arms, reluctantly, letting his shirt drop to the floor, then swung them down around her shoulders and the back of her thighs, lifting her into his arms. Duncan carried her to the copper tub, the steaming water within almost having reached the rim--he lowered her into it and Kenzie sighed deeply, her eyes fluttering closed in an expression of deep, contented loveliness.

Duncan lifted away from her, turning off the faucet, balancing on the edge of it for a moment, naked; Kenzie’s hair had immediately begun to drift around her, and he thought again of Sirens in the sea, calling out to Odysseus.

“You look like a mermaid, Kenz,” he said, smiling down at her. She grinned, dipping her face under the water, blowing bubbles up to the surface, eyeing him coyly.

“Come, come to me, come to the sea and be drowned, wah-haha,” she laughed.

“By you, gladly.” Duncan stepped over the rim and settled down into the serenely hot water. The tub was quite large--larger than the claw-footed one in the penthouse, large enough that he could stretch his legs out entirely and crook them around her, drawing her into him, his cock, hardening, straining, brushing against the inside of her leg and stomach. She shivered and he moved his mouth down to her cheek, her jaw, pressing tiny kisses there.

“Remember when you put all those roses in the bathtub, baby,” Kenzie was whispering, lifting herself up to him, her nose nuzzling against his. The water felt almost unbearably warm now with her against him this way, and Duncan wanted to cry out against her hair, on her bare, flushed, damp skin. I fucking love you, my love is ever-hungry, ever-urgent, as if it wants to tear me into pieces so I can feed myself to you.

“How could I ever forget that,” he whispered. “You were so fucking beautiful that night. That dress, the half-moon around your neck. I think that’s the first time I knew--really knew--that you were divine.”

“I’m gonna ride you again like that now,” she murmured against his chin, her eyes glowing, and her little slender hand was grasping his cock, now terribly hard in her fingers, easing up and down its thickness with her hips under his fingers, her little tongue dipping out along his lower lip--Kenzie eased herself down onto him, a shuddering, high gasp falling out of her mouth into his, and he cried against her, the pitiful need in his voice ringing in his ears. She moved, slowly at first, then more pressingly, her hands coming up to dampen his hair with water that fell through it in a glistening trail.

“It feels like we woke up from another dream today,” she was whimpering into him, and Duncan was kissing her neck, his mouth tingling with her, lost in the tightness, the clenching, devouring space of her cunt around him, the water’s steam rising around them in droves. “Now we know, baby.”

“That you saved me--” he whined into the dip of her throat now, his voice shuddering as his orgasm inched closer, through his thighs and his groin. “You saved me, angel, you saved my soul from darkness here--that you save me, over and over--you are my miracle, fuck, Kenzie--”

“I am, aren’t I--” she laughed against him, then her laugh bled into a moan as she ground down onto him in the glorious heat of the water, her little hands drifting along his neck, through his curls, her head falling back, and his mouth was around her nipple, sucking with deep hunger, his heart already breaking for the moment he’d have to stop--then he felt himself, eyes blurring with heat and tears, his voice crying wordlessly to heaven (thank you Fates, who are Her), coming harshly up into the golden space of her, the depth of her, the absence of void--she was fullness, truth, reality, the essence of life, she was the beginning and end of all, the solace of his existence. My angel, my miracle, my savior, my Kenzie, for all time.

And for awhile after, they held each other in the blessed quiet and the wonderful heat of the water and the soothing feeling of one another, and he kissed the tiny tears from her eyes, and everything in all of that stretch of moments, small, brief, and somehow also infinite, was sublime.

-------

Kenzie was laying with her face towards the ceiling in the center of the golden bed, the delicate, hanging golden lamp there bowing down on her, kissing at the waves of her chestnut hair. She wore the little silken pink pyjamas and the silk black kimono, gifts from me, I want to shower you with gifts for the rest of our lives, my delight, my sweet love, and one of the downy pillows was propped under her head as she held D’aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths up to her face with her little hands. The other books were in a pile beside her on the silky spread; the ghost story books, Jane Eyre, The Golden Compass and the stargazing book from Duncan’s penthouse library. Duncan was propped up with a pillow on the headboard, facing her, wearing just a pair of black briefs, one of her tiny feet in his large hand; he rubbed it carefully, tenderly, fingers drifting back and forth along its graceful curve, over the rise of her little bones, eyes on her face as she read. The curtain was floating against the wall, and Duncan could smell the fire from the pit downstairs rising up. He wondered if he should go wake Rosemary so she could sleep in one of the guest rooms, but was loathe to move away from the bed, out of Kenzie’s warm sphere. In a little while, he thought. The night is warm and beautiful, besides, as beautiful as last night. It’s like we’re in our own little world here.

“I just love this picture so much,” Kenzie whispered, turning the book to him. The picture was the one of Persephone and Demeter rushing into each other’s arms in a golden field of flowers. “It really makes me think of me and Momby. She’s going to be so happy when we tell her. I keep imagining her face when you call her Momby,” and Kenzie’s grin clenched at his heart.

She turned the book back to herself, resting its edge on her belly, flipping through the pages. Duncan could hear the peepers out on the lake, the drift of the water obscured by them, the low crackle of the fire pit below. Kenzie stopped on a certain page, gazing at it intently, her little mouth pouting, eyes concentrated.

“What’s that page, baby,” Duncan murmured, switching to her other foot, kneading at her toes.

“Selene and Endymion,” she murmured.

“Read it to me?” he asked. I love your voice in the soft night. Singing, speaking, breathing sighs, the gasp of you when you come, the little crying sounds in your sleep.

Kenzie smiled, eyes whirling dark green at him, cleared her throat a little, and read in a clear, measured voice. Journalism major, he thought, brimming with happiness so full it was like a golden cup running over through his body.

“Selene, the moon, came out at night to light up the sky while her brother, Helios, was resting. Slowly she drove her milk-white horses across the sky, and her pale moonbeams fell gently on the sleeping earth where all was peace and quiet.”

Duncan tried to imagine what it must have been like to meet Kenzie for the first time--not on the balcony, he thought, but in that other place, the real first time, after I saw her on her throne, like that dream we had, the throne where she held the sceptre--the Hidden Sphere, the one Rosemary talked about. We met in the Garden, Rosemary said, the Garden of All Delights. Kenzie’s hair, white and shimmering, was full of galaxy-flowers. Her eyes were a golden universe. And her wings were like the vastness of heaven in an unbroken sunset.

“One night Selene’s soft light fell on Endymion, a young shepherd, who was sleeping beside his flock. She stopped to look at him. He was smiling in his sleep and was so young and handsome that she completely lost her heart to him,” and here Kenzie glanced up at Duncan, her face cast in a soft corona of light, her eyes held in the aureate bow of her lashes, and he felt her thought--that’s how I felt when I saw your smile, baby. “She drove through the night, but she could not get him out of her mind.”

Duncan was sliding down over the coverlet to her, his hands drifting up her thighs. Oh you did, did you. She smiled at him nervously, then her eyes fell back to the page and she read again.

“When her duties were over, she went to Zeus and asked him to grant Endymion eternal sleep so he would stay forever young and handsome...Zeus granted Selene’s wish and Endymion slept on and on, smiling in his sleep. He dreamed that he held the moon in his arms. But it was not a dream after all…”

Duncan was pulling her up to him, into his mouth, easily lifting her small weight against him, and the book fell from her fingers to the soft spread and her hair fell back, her eyes fluttering closed against him, the silken feeling of her all too much, and Duncan thought of her as the moon shining against him; as the goddess she once was, of what had felt like a dream, had seemed to be one in the nimbus of sleep, but hadn’t been, her, so wondrously, soul-shakingly real now, in his arms--

No, no. Not a dream after all.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 24 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I suspected the Gala would be at least two parts, and I was right--this is ostensibly the first half of it, 25 will be the second half. I don’t think it’ll go longer than that, but who knows, I never know until I sit down and write the chapter. Here are some higher quality pics of Kenzie’s dress. Her hair looks like this, but with tiny dark red rose buds rather than those little white flowers in it. Her makeup is similar to this look for Billie’s Bello magazine shoot, but her lipstick is like mine here. Here are her shoes. Kenzie is beginning to be able to see herself the way other people do--as something truly divine, her “Supremeness”, as it were--but she has no ego in those moments. The perception is an accurate one. The album Duncan puts on is Prince’s self-titled, the first track is I WANNA BE YOUR LOVER. Duncan’s hair in this part is similar to Cody’s hair here, which is more or less always how Duncan’s hair looks, just particularly well-coiffed on this night, I guess. His makeup is like Cody’s here. With Hannah and Georgio, I wanted to juxtapose the different reactions Duckenzie invoke in people--for some they are divinely inspiring, and for others with darker auras, they invoke carnal lust. Hannah’s jumpsuit looks like this, her hair like this. I based her vaguely on my friend Aly, who has a very dusty sunset aura to me and a beautiful soul. Here’s Annette’s Gala dress. Her hair looks like this. The necklace she gives Kenzie is vintage Cartier, and it looks like this. A special shout out to Luna (@misslunarayne/@officialcodysfallenangels) who inspired Anchaly reading Hawthorne’s THE NEW ADAM AND EVE; she’s the one who told me about the Millory parallels in that book. Momby’s dress, her rose pin, her scarf. Here’s Jimi Hendrix’s PURPLE HAZE (he and I have the same birthday, November 27th). STOP AND BE FRIENDLY is a reference to CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, one of my favorite films (so I made it one of Kenzie’s favorites, too). I couldn’t find a logo for Shepherd Unlimited, and have no idea if the HOUSE OF CARDS showrunners ever created one, so I made one up. Here’s Gretchen Friedrichs’ absolute monstrosity of a dress. Sissy Conners’ dress looks like this. The “very famous actor” can be whoever you want it to be--I dunno, Colin Firth or Ryan Gosling or somebody. Here are the Pre-Raphaelite works I reference in this part: VENUS VERTICORDIA, VANITY, THE FIELD OF THE SLAIN, THE GOLDEN STAIRS, OPHELIA. Here are the angels from Waterhouse’s ST. CECELIA who remind Kenzie of Lindy and Gabby. To me, Lindy and Gabby represent the Millory fans; the lovely people I’ve met online who ship Michael x Mallory, without whom I would not have been inspired to write this story. The Millory fans are by and large extremely beautiful souls who have touched my heart immensely--in most cases, young women (many of you bi/pan, like me) who want to believe in love and redemption and beauty, and my fic, in many ways, is for young (and young at heart) women and nonbinary people who want these things in their lives. I still believe in the healing, transcendent power of love, despite all the terrible things in this world, and I ALWAYS will, and this is and will continue to be an unabashed love story. Here’s Marissa Montague’s dress. Her hair is like Emma’s here. She was fun to write. My Marissa is a very superficial, sad person, and Kenzie sees through her right away. The Ducatis are a wealthy family I made up who Duncan used to hang out with when he was younger, partying all the time with superficial socialites like Marissa. I wanted to note that Duncan did go through a phase where he was doing coke all the time and sleeping around, because he is indeed a spoiled rich boy in some ways, and he wasn’t always a great person. Kenzie has given him purpose and an active desire to be better, because love always inspires one to be better. Kenzie is waking to powers she didn’t know she had as she and Duncan get closer to learning about their true natures. If anyone would like to make a Gala moodboard/edit for this part of the story, I’d be OVERJOYED. And as ever, if you’re reading along, your comments, likes, reblogs, asks and edits mean everything to me. Please take a second to like the fic if you’re reading, thank you!

Kenzie broke their kiss reluctantly, her head cloudy with the scent of him (the woods of you, your ache for me, I feel the wildness of your high desire for me, baby, impatient for later), aware of Claire and Morgan’s eyes on them in the bright studio. Duncan made a soft sound as she pulled away from him, one of regret at her absence--his lips came up to her temple, his hands pulling her into him; those hands on the silky gold of her dress made her heart drop down to float in her stomach, spread warm tendrils to her sex. She could feel his thoughts still, aching against her.

Kenzie. My beloved. Everyone will bow to you tonight. But I swear I am your most devoted. And I swear I will worship you best.

“Wow, it got really hot in here,” Claire murmured, fluttering her hand against her cheek, breathing out in a long stream. “Fuck, you two look amazing. Wait until they do her hair and makeup, Duncan. They’ll want to hang pictures of her in the MOMA.”

“Clairebear, stoppit.”

“I am not fucking joking around, Kenzie Lou. You two look like a drawing in a mythology book. Like a fairy tale.” Kenzie could see the tears glittering around the edges of Claire’s eyes; her friend looked away, clearly overwhelmed in her emotions.

“My darlings,” Morgan said, coming up to them, reaching for their hands. Kenzie took one, Duncan the other, his arm still dipped around her waist, trailing up and down the softness of the gold there, against the waves of her hair. “Likes Hades and his bright queen Persephone.”

“They really are like that,” Kenzie heard Claire say as Morgan moved toward her assistant, agreeing delightedly, grasping Claire’s hand now. She felt her cheeks flush.

“That’s how I always think of her,” Kenzie heard Duncan say to Morgan. “Surrounded by flowers, bringing spring. Healing me.” Kenzie’s heart twinged. Everyone can see it. How he’s been healed. And I supposed it has been because of me in some ways. But I know he had it in him, in his dear heart, all along. And despite what he knows about Annette now, he’ll defy that too. He’ll transcend whatever was holding him back. Duncan had turned his head back down to her, and his hands tightened on her, the gold bracelet brushing along her bare shoulder blade.

I will, baby. With you here, I can do anything. As long as you’re here I know nothing can really hurt me. My constant moon. My flower of the universe. She was nodding, overwhelmed in the weight of his touch, his hand drifting to cradle her head at the nape of her neck.

“Erik’s going to be bringing the stylists to the penthouse soon,” he said down to her, his eyes intensely bright on her (so blue so blue blue like the blessed daylight, blue like sapphire), his thoughts bursts of brilliant desire, like tiny electric shocks cascading over her. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you--”

“I’m losing my mind over you--” Kenzie gripped at the velvet lapels of his gold-kissed jacket, lifting her hand up to the soft waves of his hair, the diamond and gold at her wrist reminding her again of her daydreams of the circlet of a crown around his head. Duncan. You worship me but my love, I worship you also. I am moved, body and soul, by you. Prince of stars.

The gold is your hands on me, he whispered into the corners of her mind. How it feels to be touched by you. How it feels to be looked at by you. How it feels to be loved by you. The gold is you and tonight everything is for you, and everyone will see you and know.

“Duncan, look at her shoes,” Claire was coming over to them, having found some semblance of composure, carefully holding Kenzie’s elbow as she leaned to the hem of the cascading gold dress, lifting it so Kenzie’s feet were exposed--her shoes were shimmering gold platform sandals with ribbons that wrapped around her ankles, tying at the back.

“They remind me of the shoes she was wearing the night we met,” Duncan was saying to Claire, his hand trailing down Kenzie’s arm, sending a shiver down her back. “I remember I looked at her feet and I thought oh, she ties her shoes in double knots, like I do. And in that moment, I was a goner.”

“Everything you ever wanted,” Kenzie grinned at him. “A girl who ties her shoes like you.”

“She looked like a fucking angel, Claire. You look like a fucking goddess right now, Kenzie. Like a queen. I love you.” Duncan was pressing against her again, his mouth on her cheek, his hands falling down the dress, and Kenzie’s heart was in her mouth, the shape and scent of him the only thing, the greatest of all things, the center of her soul intoxicated in him.

“He ain’t kidding, Kenz. I can’t wait to see BPF tomorrow, honestly. That website is becoming one of my favorite pastimes nowadays, they’re as obsessed with my best friend as I am.” Claire’s eyes had tears in them again, and Kenzie felt her own eyes go misty.

“I fucking love you, Clairebear. Thank you for everything. I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am about you and Harris.”

When Claire had been helping Kenzie dress in the side-room, her friend had told her how shyly and sweetly Harris had called her after Kenzie had passed along her phone number; how he’d asked her if she’d be open to “stepping out” with him, and had told her that he’d been immediately moved by how lovely she was. “I know he’s like ten years older than me, but I feel like--” Claire had blushed deeply, and Kenzie had clutched her hands (oh Claire, I love you and your sweet spirit so much)--”I just--Kenzie Lou, I just feel like he has a lovely soul. I feel like he’s been mostly happy--like me--for a long time, but also lonely, like me, for a long time--” Tears had welled up in Claire’s eyes, and half-dressed, Kenzie had clutched her, burying her face in Claire’s flowery shoulder (she always smells like sunlight on grass and fresh lavender to me), knowing what Claire had meant, knowing Claire didn’t need to say anything else. To have someone to understand you, someone who can truly hold you in the hollow of their heart. I know, Clairebear. More than a friend. A lover. She had pushed a wave of gold into Claire--Claire had quieted and gone back to helping with her dress, wrapping the train carefully over Kenzie’s shoulder, straightening its cascade over her shoulder blade, pulling her hair free from where it’d tucked under the bodice and pulling her fingers through the waves. “Princess Kenzie,” she had whispered, and it had struck a long chord through Kenzie’s heart, reminded her of Duncan--Princess, moon princess, my little moonbeam--and the worship of his words and his lips and his hands in the darkness in their bed, and Kenzie had shivered to behold the way she seemed to transform in the gown, the way the woman who had stared at her in the slender mirror of the dressing room truly began to seem like a princess--like some golden queen, some other Kenzie who fears nothing. And so I will resolve to be her tonight. I will be fearless, regal, that Kenzie who is a queen, Persephone on her throne in the Underworld. I will pretend I’m her tonight, and hold my head high. Duncan told me I belong in this world--and I think I do, because I belong where he is. So I’ll pretend I’m not afraid. I’ll be the one who protects him tonight, because his heart has been wounded and his spirit needs me.

Even looking at him in the splendor of the gold-dipped blazer and the regal gold collar, she could still see the pain behind his gaze, the melancholy ache of yesterday still lingering around his mouth. My Hades, trapped in the Underworld. You felt lost; you still do. Even in the certainty of our love, you are questioning who you are. But together we’re going to find out. We’re going to find the secrets of ourselves together. Duncan was thanking Morgan, kissing her gloved hand, making Morgan laugh with delight--Kenzie’s heart pounded fiercely as she watched him, the fall of his hair, his height, the brightness of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his angelic beauty, compounded by the elegant clothes. Beloved. Tonight we’ll show everyone how bright we shine together--tomorrow, we’ll retreat into the woods, to whisper our love into each other without needing to speak, to hide and heal in each other’s embrace, and gaze at the stars, and find each other’s secret places. To find the secrets that are so close to us, that we cannot see but have begun to feel, to sense in each other. They are so near. They are the shadow that stands beside us, and soon we’ll be able to see them, Duncan, baby.

He was looking over at her, and she saw in his eyes the recognition of her thoughts. I feel them too. Like they are waiting just around the corner for us. Like we’re seeing them in the mirror today, not ourselves. The echo of them.

They left Morgan’s studio with their hands grasped tightly together, Kenzie’s train carefully draped over Duncan’s arm as he led her down the stairs, easily supporting her petite frame as she blushed down at her feet, trying not to fall in the golden heels, trying not to fall into him the way she was longing to, dying to, remembering the way she’d pushed him into the wall in the stairwell that first night, impossibly hungry for him, the most beautiful boy I have ever fucking seen, and now, somehow, ever more beautiful, almost impossibly so. She could feel the tiny tremors under her skin, the dancing bursts of nervousness, the nerves borne of how lovely he was right now, how staggeringly beautiful to look at. We’ve fucked like crazy, we live together, and god, I still feel so fucking shy of you right now.

“Baby, are you kidding,” he whispered against her as she hovered on the stair above him, leaning his mouth up into her chin, hands falling back and forth over the golden cascade that covered her body. “You’re shy of me? I’m so fucking nervous right now--you’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t even think straight. You can’t possibly be mine. I can’t possibly deserve you. You’re a fucking angel.”

And he was pressing her against the wall of the stairwell now, ever so gently, the chilly cement of it against the bareness of her shoulders above the lame of the dress, her train still tucked into the crook of his elbow, and his mouth down at her collarbone, keeping her tethered to him, his lips drifting to her neck and below her ear, his breath whispering there, his eyelashes brushing the tiny space at the corner of her eye, tasting at her, murmuring further and further into her mind with taut insistence as his hands trembled and shivered down her arms, I can’t wait to get home so you can push that ring onto my cock, can’t wait to push that plug inside you while we stare into each other in the eyes of the Mirror that’s drifting into our dreams now, can’t wait to keep you close to me all night, anticipating the moment where we’re truly alone, can’t wait for everyone to behold you and the thrill of the secret knowledge that despite their longing you are mine alone, and that you chose me among all, that you blessed me, beloved, most fair among all, as your lover, I can’t wait to be so close to you again that we don’t know where part from each other, so close the sweat on our skin mingles on our skin flushed against each other, so close I can feel the clutch of your cunt gripping onto me, claiming me, fucking me, devouring me, can’t wait for you to fuck me, angel--and the insistence of his mouth under her hair was pushing her eyes to the metal underside of the staircase above, her mouth falling open in a gasp of absolute need that drive sharp knives of longing through her whole body.

Fuck, Duncan, I want you so much, I want you all to myself, Prince Duncan, I want your need to be the only thing you can think of, your need for me, I’m the golden gift just for you, the Pandora’s box full not of darkness, but exquisite loveliness, all for you, but you have to be patient today, Erik and the stylists are waiting for us, everyone is waiting for us tonight, waiting to see you, beautiful exalted Prince--

No, they’re waiting for YOU, my golden Persephone, it’s your golden beauty they are waiting for--his mouth was hovering over hers, not touching it, not quite, but begging to, sweetly open, aching to take hers, tilting his head, impossibly blue eyes rising and falling down the curve of her face, the gold waterfall of her dress--

“Let’s go, baby,” she gasped, gently pushing his arms away from her, gently turning from his mouth despite the soft, imploring sounds he made, his curls and the bridge of his nose brushing against her cheek. I can’t hold out when you’re touching me that way, I can’t stand it, Dunny, you have to stop, I can’t, I want you so much--

She grasped his hand as he stepped back on shaking feet, the gold of their bracelets clinking together softly, and he carefully gripped the train as she stepped ahead of him, down the last flight of stairs to the palm-lined foyer of Morgan’s studio building, and they were out in the oppressive, flushed heat of the day, but it felt good on Kenzie’s skin, it was a relief to be enveloped in the heat that was coursing through her body already. The world has been set on fire with our love, she thought, looking up at Duncan as he came through the door beside her, towards where Samuel was parked on the corner. He dipped his head to her, his mouth set to stave off his longing, and he was pushing his Yves sunglasses over his (ethereal blue like the heavens) eyes, but before he did she could see the patterned geometry of his soul there, which saw hers utterly, and wanted her, utterly, loved her, entirely. The world has turned, changed for us, become ours, and now it sees us, and it bows and encircles us in its desire, its heat is its kisses of worship on our skin, and it knows who we are. Soulmates.

---------

Samuel was looking at them with moon-bright eyes as Duncan helped Kenzie into the deeply cool interior of the car, and Kenzie smiled back at him shyly as he turned the stereo dial up--with a thrill she realized it was Jimi Hendrix, and his wild guitar crashed against her. Summer music. 

Purple haze all in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same, actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky...

“My dear Duncan and Mackenzie,” he said, foot on the gas, “you look like you stepped down from heaven a moment ago, off a falling star.”

“I feel like I’m in heaven, Samuel,” Kenzie replied, as Duncan’s hand slipped into hers. “I can’t come down, and I don’t want to.”

“You know it’s the full moon tonight,” Duncan’s chauffeur said, slipping dark sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed through the window. “The juju that comes on nights such as these is quite special. It’s fortuitous that the Gala is on such a night--tonight will be the night the world will see the true brightness of your love.”

Kenzie puzzled for a moment over Samuel’s words--what does that mean? She looked up at Duncan, who seemed to be openly staring at her behind his dark sunglasses, his lips parted, his hand dry and warm, his thumb drifting over her palm. She lifted a finger to pull them down at the rim, exposing his eyes to her--yep, staring. Blue like the clear shore of a bright ocean.

“What does that mean?” She mouthed to him, smiling at him, her cheeks flushed. Oddly, Samuel lifted the partition after that, somehow content not to explain himself further.

Duncan shrugged, and his fingers tightened in hers. He shook his head. Baby, I don’t know. But I have a strange feeling about tonight. I had a strange feeling about yesterday, too--I know you felt that. But today doesn’t have that mean feeling like yesterday, does it? It has some other kind of feeling. It’s heavy, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like--a giant wheel turning. Like a huge clock tower chiming the hour. Like lifting your face to the sun after you’ve been indoors for a long time.

Yeah. Like that, she thought, nodding, her other hand drifting against his thigh, and then she spoke, in the cocoon of their privacy. “Duncan...I feel like I swallowed the sun and every bit of light is shooting from my eyes and my mouth and the tips of my hair and everyone it touches, they feel it too, they feel bright and healed. I feel like it’s my destiny to do that--touch people with the sunlight I can feel inside me.”

“You always make me feel that way. Like nothing bad can happen to me when you’re here. Like you’re the sun in the day and the moon at night, and you bring light where there would be darkness without you. Kenzie,” and he pressed his hand into her waist, his eyes fluttering at the softness of the gown, his breath gasping. “God, I want to just run away with you.”

“Away from everyone and everything to a secret place where no one can find us,” she whispered against him. Kenzie’s body felt flushed with overwhelming heat despite the coolness of the car. “Soon, baby, soon, we’ll eat fruit under the trees and swim in the lake and fuck so fucking much--” and she drifted her hand against his throat, thumb on the fullness of his lips, pulling him down against her, Duncan pulling his glasses off and dropping them unceremoniously on the car’s floor, gathering her in his arms, his mouth flushing into hers with her fingers still pressed under his jaw, tightening to hold him steady against her, and he whispered into her mouth, “baby, fuck, Kenzie--” and she could feel the rapid, frenzied drifting of his mind, the Bacchanalian chaotic need that was building in the center of him. To love you is holy madness, Mackenzie Stone. I fucking worship you. His mouth was in her hair, his fingers pulling it to his nose to breathe in the scent of her, and his expression was one of angelic beauty, an aching supplication to her, his finely chiseled features, his long straight nose, his full lips, his sharp jaw utterly divine in the purity of his love. It took her breath away to see him this way--it took her senses and rattled them apart, leaving her feeling spread like the particles of stardust in the night sky.

“Tonight,” she whispered against him, and she made herself look into his eyes, despite the shaking in her own soul, despite her fear of his beauty, because despite our closeness, my love, I still fear how lovely you are, I still fear your devotion because it shakes my fucking soul, and I fear you because your beauty seems impossible, and I see the inhuman in you, I fear the loss of you, for I’d die without you now-- “you’re gonna be aching for me all night, aren’t you, baby, you’re not gonna touch yourself at all, either, are you, baby, even though you’re gonna want to, I know,” and his tongue was pressing out onto her bottom lip, his tiny moans like sweet music in her ears, “you’re gonna want to but you aren’t going to, because only I get to touch you, only I get to take that ring off your poor aching cock, my poor baby--”

Duncan’s hands tightened at the back of her hair, twisting and forcefully pressing so her mouth crashed against his, and the need in it crushing against her heart with a possessive hand. I won’t baby, I won’t, but fuck, I want you now, how can I wait so long. His mouth was like the musky juice of some unearthly fruit. He must be what ambrosia tastes like. Like fucking sex. Like the pinnacle of all my desires. Like the highest part of my hope and the wildest release of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. There’s nothing like it I’ve ever felt anywhere. Him.

Kenzie’s hands were clutched to the gold-kissed lapels of his velvety jacket as they arrived at the penthouse all too soon, her fingers drifting against the intricate cages of the collar tips.

“I feel like you should be wearing a crown,” she whispered to him. Duncan’s hands were coming around to clutch hers at his throat, his mouth kissing at her fingertips.

“I keep imagining flowers in your hair,” he replied. “Flowers would be your crown, my beautiful Kenzie. So many flowers.”

Samuel was lowering the partition and Kenzie moaned against him, her heart crushed that they had so much longer to go before they’d be alone together again. It’s never enough, she thought to him. Whatever time we have alone, it’s never enough, it’s not even close to being enough.

I know baby, I know angel, I know, it’s never enough, kiss me, kiss me-- and they crushed their mouths together again, not caring that Samuel could see them now, his bright-moon gaze skirting over them then politely away, though Kenzie knew that it was difficult for him, knew he thought they were bright as stars, beautiful beyond words, though she couldn’t have said how she knew, only that Samuel’s emotion towards them in this moment was starkly bright, as if he were speaking it out loud, and then Duncan was pulling her out of the car and she felt dazed, dazed as Jerry opened the door for them, his expression one of utter amazement, until Anchaly let out a barking laugh of complete joy towards them that startled her so she clutched at Duncan’s hand, suddenly shy and apprehensive of the small man.

“And the spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters,” Anchaly said, and Kenzie saw Duncan’s puzzled look as they walked past. His eyes were glittering.

“I feel like you speak in riddles sometimes, Anchaly,” Duncan was saying as he pressed the button of the elevator. He had gathered her train up in his hand again, holding it gently over his arm, and Kenzie blushed, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious, as if she were being led up to an opulent throne where she’d be crowned a queen of some unknown kingdom. She kept looking down to examine the dress, unconvinced it was real, its golden sheen seeping into the corners of her vision.

“Some glories require the words of someone more skilled than I,” Anchaly replied. “You two seem to render me speechless to express my astonishment without some help.”

“Is that from Proverbs, Anchaly? From the Bible?” Kenzie remembered a Moby song that had a similar name to the words Anchaly had spoken.

“Indeed. God creating the waters when he made the world.”

The elevator dinged open.

“You two seem to be creating something, too. The beauty of your love seems to be growing.”

Duncan didn’t reply--he seemed unsure of what to say. Kenzie could see the blush around his eyes.

“Anchaly, Annette’s going to be dropping something off for me soon,” Kenzie called out to him as Duncan pulled her inside. “Please call up to the penthouse when she’s here, will you?”

She saw Anchaly’s nod, the glittering quality of his eyes flashing at her again, and then Duncan was clutching her against him again in the gold interior of the elevator, his fingers achingly delicate on the gold of her dress, and she was lost inside his attentions, lost, and it was everything she could do not to grind against his thigh pressing her into the elevator’s mirror, not to stare in wonder at the loveliness of the picture they cast there, she blushed to be so struck with wonder at her own beauty, blushed to be overcome so often by the rightness of how they looked together. We really do look like royalty, like Pilar said. The moment was gone too soon as the elevator seemed to climb 30 stories in no time at all, and Duncan gently pulled away from her, grasping the train and urging her out as she giggled at him, dragging her softly to the penthouse door, through with they could already hear the voices of Erik and the stylists inside. Rather than using his keycard Duncan knocked twice, lazily, on the door, then in a moment of abandon, grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her up into his mouth again, the taste of him dizzying her wildly, the half-hardness of his crotch pressing into her stomach. Then he was hurriedly bringing her back to earth, grinning at her as the door swung open and they broke apart to Erik’s judging gaze, his mouth pursed at them in their breathless state, his expression one of hidden delight masked by facetious scandal.

“Heeeeeeaven, I’m in heaven,” he sang, fluttering his eyelashes--they were very long with pink rhinestones today. “Just look at you two. As soon as you mentioned Morgan I knew she’d do both of you justice, Mackenzie. I can already see the headlines tomorrow: ‘DUCKENZIE STUNS IN GOLD, WE ALL HAVE TO WIPE OURSELVES OFF THE FLOOR’. Duncan, I brought Hannah and Georgio today. You remember them--they did you for the App release party. They’re going to lose their shit over her.” He extended his hand, beckoning to them languidly, moving back inside the penthouse, the long black cashmere poncho he wore drifting behind him. Duncan’s warm, large hand was on the skin just above the back of the dress, and Kenzie stepped away from his touch, feeling too overwhelmed by it to let it continue for now--I want you terribly, my love. I want you alone.

In the kitchen there was an array of picturesque snacks from the always well-stocked silver fridge and cupboards spread out; round rice crackers and two bricks of artisan swiss and gouda, salami rolled around tiny toothpicks, cubed mango, sliced green apple, bunches of grapes, organic hummus and pesto, bite-sized chopped purple cauliflower and celery sticks, and multiple open bottles of wine.

“We had to get the party started the right way, of course,” Erik simpered to Duncan, and Duncan smiled at him (that smile, kiss me, baby), unbothered, then at the two people seated at the obsidian island with recognition. Kenzie suddenly felt wildly shy again, fighting the urge to hide behind him, but he was pushing bright, warm blue feelings against her, circling her heart. “Hey, Hannah.” Hannah had very long, vaguely wavy hair that was a sort of lavender-grey, the kind of color that could only be achieved by a master hairstylist, one that usually only existed in superhero comics, and chopped bangs. She was ambiguously aged, perhaps in her early 30’s, with bright pink eyeshadow and an expertly contoured, round face. She wore a very long boho bronze-red jumpsuit with curling indigo detailing, and an array of long necklaces with varying crystals. Her skin was the color of milky coffee. The man beside her had long chocolatey hair streaked with natural gray, tied back into a bun at the back of his head, sharp, dark eyes, and an beard that was so well-cropped it seemed almost fake. He had silver rings on his fingers in the shapes of animal skulls, and wore a black denim jacket and black skinny jeans on his very thin frame. He had been talking to the woman in a very quiet, even voice, but she had begun to laugh loudly at something he said. “Hi Georgio, lovely to see you both again. This is Mackenzie Stone.”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe Duckenzie are finally here!” The woman called Hannah immediately stopped laughing, dropping the morsel of gouda she’d been clutching in long coral-colored fingernails. Kenzie gawked at her. God, the Duckenzie thing is a trip. The woman got up from Duncan’s island and came around to her, her hands flitting down to Kenzie’s shoulders--she was at least six inches taller, and in bare feet. She smells really nice, like patchouli incense.

“God, you’re a little jewel,” and Hannah was pulling her into a hug, much to Kenzie’s surprise. “You smell like a rose bush. It’s obscene.”

“Hannah, I fucking told you,” Erik said. “Imagine the possibilities. An absolute babydoll.”

“Georgio,” the other man came up to her, grasping her fingers, leaning over them. “A pleasure to finally meet you in person, dear.” His voice remained very quiet and very even, removed from Hannah’s immediate enthusiasm.

“I do hair, Georgio does makeup,” Hannah was saying down to her. “This dress, Jesus fucking Christ, you’re like a Klimt painting, and Duncan, god, you always look incredible but this is next-level, nobody will be able to talk about anything else tomorrow, fuck, Georgio, we have to really outdo ourselves with this one.”

“I fucking agree.” Georgio was looking between Duncan and Kenzie with a hungry glint in his eye, as though he were a vulture about to swoop down onto a carcass. Kenzie shivered a little--I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way some people look at us when we’re together, she thought. It’s as though some people want to leave us candles and fruit and gold coins on an altar, and other people want to somehow consume us--rip out our hearts and gnaw on them with their teeth. Hannah is one of the former. This man Georgio is one of the latter. She watched his hungry, dark eyes float up and down on Duncan, and she was made conscious again, removed from her lover’s touch for the moment, of how incredibly beautiful Duncan was, how singularly, objectively handsome.

Back off honey, he’s mine. Kenzie couldn’t help it, she snorted into her hand suddenly at the force of her thought, the certainty of it, and Hannah looked down at her, puzzled.

“I was just thinking about how crazy all of this has been,” Kenzie murmured.

“I bet, honey. Your Instagrams are like the only thing anyone talks about anymore. You must have gotten like, a hundred endorsement offers by now.”

Duncan shrugged at her. “I don’t think we’ll be doing stuff like that, Hannah. Kenzie’s a writer.”

“I forgot, you’re a fucking billionaire,” Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “No pressing need to make more money.” I like this woman, Kenzie thought. We can be friends. “Little golden peach, come sit with me, I’m wild to start on you.” Hannah led Kenzie to the living room, where they’d set up two styling chairs with portable standing mirrors.  

“Dunny, bring me some of those grapes, please? I’m fucking starving.” Kenzie called across to him. Duncan was watching her with a dazed expression, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Georgio continued watching him with the same hungry eyes. Duncan went to the island as Erik said something to him that Kenzie couldn’t hear--she was turning back to Hannah, who already had two flat pastel-colored styling clips in her fingers. Kenzie sat, looking up at the woman, angling her chin up.

“What do you think your hair should look like tonight, baby doll?”

Kenzie smiled at her. I really like her.

“Sometimes he calls me Persephone,” she said to Hannah in a low voice, as if she were telling the gray-haired woman a secret. Hannah was leaning down to her, listening eagerly. The woman seemed to have an almost rosy aura around her, like the pink blush of a desert sunrise.

“Goddess of spring,” Hannah nodded. “Which would make him Hades, God of the Underworld. That seems right to me. And you brought your flowers down to him in the darkness, didn’t you, sweetness.” Hannah’s hand brushed through the wave of hair that fell over Kenzie’s shoulder. “I think we should put flowers in your hair. And then everyone will see who you really are. Not just your gold, but the way love is blooming all around you.”

Duncan was coming over to them with a bunch of grapes and some of the cheese and round crackers on a little plate and one of his Waterford glasses full of a dry rose, leaning the plate down to Kenzie’s lap, dipping his face to kiss her (thanks baby, she whispered into his mind) as he handed her the wine, then he straightened and said “I’m putting on some music for us, any requests?”

“Something sexy,” Erik said, holding up his wine glass, full of dark red. “I need some mood music to look at you two.”

Duncan smirked at him and turned away, into his study.

“Hannah, have you seen The Youth of Bacchus?” Kenzie spoke to the woman from a mouth of grapes. “It’s in Duncan’s study there, it’s so amazing, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I just wanted to die the first time I saw it.”

“I saw it the last time I was here, we styled Duncan for an event a few months ago,” Hannah had already busily begun to slide clips into Kenzie’s long tawny hair, clearly used to working around people eating. “It’s really extraordinary. I can’t imagine how crazy everything has been for you lately, honey.”

“It’s--” Hannah was dividing her hair into segments now with a thin comb, turning to a set of portable drawers near the standing mirror. “It’s been so surreal, honestly. It feels like I’ve been walking around in a dream for the past few weeks. But most people have been so lovely.”

“I bet Annette’s a fucking handful.” Kenzie heard a funky electronic beat come over the hidden speakers as Hannah’s quick hands worked at her hair, spraying primer through it, brushing it out. I ain’t got no money, I’m not like those other guys you hang around, it’s kinda funny, but they always seem to let you down…

“Yes.” Kenzie didn’t even try to hide her frustration. “Yes, she fucking is.”

Hannah snorted, grinning at her as Duncan reemerged from the study.

“Yes, honey, yes indeed,” Erik was saying to him as Duncan sat in the other styling chair beside Kenzie, Georgio immediately attacking his stubbled cheeks with moisturizer, then primer. “Prince’s self-titled is his most underrated creation, I do believe. Pure sex from beginning to end.”

“Erik, I hope this isn’t too great for a favor for someone as important as you, but could you bring me the wine glass I left over there?” Duncan glanced up at Erik with a long, languid gaze, and Kenzie giggled. Laying it on thick, baby. I like to watch you do that, she realized. Because I know you’re always mine now, and all they can do is pine after you.

Erik gave him a pleased look and brought the wine to him. “Anything for Prince Duncan,” he cooed. I feel the same way, and Kenzie’s thought flashed to his eyes staring at her in the MIrror as he fucked her, her arms tied in velvet ribbon, flashed to his mouth between her legs with her arms tied to the headboard with his belt, to her back against the cherrywood table as he kneeled to her, her body arching into his elegant, strong fingers in the dark, the white-blue glow of his eyes. Anything for you, beloved. Anything.

“I’m gonna need fresh rosebuds for Kenzie’s hair, Duncan,” Hannah said, glancing at him.

Duncan made a little sound of longing in the back of his throat that made Kenzie’s stomach flip. Oh my fucking god, baby, I’ll get you roses to wear in your hair every day. And your peonies are starting to wilt, too. Kenzie glanced at the coffee table, noticing with a twinge of sadness that he was right. Prince wailed over their heads as Duncan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a few quick text messages to Anchaly for the concierge. “Hannah, what do you need?” I wanna be your lover, I wanna be the only one that makes you come, running...Georgio’s hand was on his cheek as though it were made of delicate glass, holding Duncan’s head steady as he worked around his blue eyes with a tiny eyeshadow brush.

Hannah reached for his phone with an insistent hand and typed out a text, handing it back to him. “As young as they have would be best. And the darkest red. Fit for a queen.”

“Roses for Kenzie’s hair, roses for Kenzie, check.” Duncan glanced over at her, his eyes (the sky of you, the storm of you building for me) falling from hers down her gown, then back up. His tongue slowly came out to lick against his top lip, and the gesture seemed to be involuntary, so open to her, so desirous of her, as he sometimes was in the sanctity of their bed. Our bed, our room, my favorite place on earth now when you’re there, she could hear him, knew his thoughts drifted into the same place hers did, needy with the weight of their nights.

“Georgio, did you hear what Mackenzie told me a minute ago? Duncan calls her Persephone sometimes. Hence the roses.”

“Way ahead of you, Hannah,” Georgio said, then, “Close your eyes, please, Duncan,” and Kenzie watched him swirl the brush in a palette behind him, then begin to darken Duncan’s eyelids to deep black. My Hades. Gold in the darkness. It’s not just me, baby. It’s us together. My gold kisses your darkness, your darkness holds my gold. One without the other is not enough. One without the other is not whole.

“God, I love it,” Hannah was murmuring as she began to whirl Kenzie’s hair around a ceramic curling iron, from its soft natural waves into more carefully constructed ones. She began to switch between curling strands of Kenzie’s chestnut-blonde hair and weaving a very loose french braid down Kenzie’s back, until her hair seemed to be a very intricate web of falling braids and artfully arranged loose waves, though Kenzie couldn’t see it from the back yet. Duncan’s already luminously handsome face was now darkly striking in the shadow around his eyes, the gold of the jacket juxtaposing with the black and the blue of his corneas to an effect that took Kenzie’s breath away. God of riches, shadows, and my heart.

“God, baby, you look so good. So fucking good.”

“I agree,” Hannah was grinning between them, still fussing over Kenzie’s hair. At the back she’d created a slight bump and long waves fell around Kenzie’s face. The doorbell chimed through the penthouse and Erik went to the door from where he’d been lazily eating apple slices and downing glass after glass of wine. A delivery man stood there with a long white box--Erik took it from him and brought it over to the low leather couch, lifting the lid. Within were a dozen sprigs of burgundy-dark rose buds, and a bouquet of a two-dozen full-stem roses in the same color.

“Oh sugar, I wish a billionaire who looks like an angel would buy me flowers every day,” Erik said longingly. 

“Gimme, please,” Kenzie begged, reaching her arms out. Erik brought them to her from where Hannah was holding her captive, and Kenzie lifted the bouquet to her face in their softness, feeling tears welling up. “Dunny, I love them so much.” Duncan was smiling at her with a dreamy expression around his darkly shadowed eyes. We’ll take them with us to the cabin. We’ll put them beside our bed. I love you, Kenzie.

I love you, too, Duncan. I’ll save so many wildflowers while we’re there to hang over our bed here. We’ll bring the roses with us, and bring the forest back with us, Kenzie’s eyes rested in his, her hand stretching out to him, almost involuntarily. Duncan stood and came to her, Georgio having finished his work, leaning against the standing mirror, observing with a sharp, dark gaze. Duncn crouched down beside her chair, bringing his face up to press his nose into the roses she held, then up to her cheek and against her lips, and Kenzie’s body tingled with the softness and sweetness of him, the darkly beautiful dramatic cast of his face in the eyeshadow. He drew back from her, eyes lifting up to the others behind her--neither of them had realized for the beat of the moments that Erik, Hannah and Georgio were all staring at the two of them with observant, rapt expressions, Hannah’s almost pious, Erik’s joyous, Georgio’s openly desirous. The first side of Prince had ended, and the quiet had settled around them.

“God, you two are lovely,” Hannah breathed, breaking the spell. “I could watch you all day. I’ve never seen a couple so beautiful. It’s like you’re communicating without words.”

At that moment the downstairs buzzer beside the penthouse door trilled, making Kenzie jump. We are, Hannah. But no one knows that but us. And we want to keep it that way. It belongs to us. Duncan stepped away from Kenzie, clutching her hand for a moment. I bet that’s Annette, Kenzie thought, biting into her lip. Annette’s text had been strange, a frantic tone underneath her overly-polite request to see Kenzie. Please accept this gift as a token of my blessing, she’d said, and Kenzie had known Annette distress was coming solely from Duncan’s silence to her, but nevertheless, the prospect of actually gaining Annette’s approval by any means was tempting, especially since she’d softened to Kenzie at the Rose Garden. Duncan went to the door, hitting a button below the panel and speaking into it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Shepherd, Annette is here.”

Duncan looked over at Kenzie, a pained expression immediately falling over his face. Baby, it’s okay, Kenzie thought to him. I’ll go downstairs. I won’t take long. I’m not afraid of her.

“Anchaly, Kenzie’s coming down,” he said, turning back to the speaker. “Do not send up her up.”

“Very well, Mr. Shepherd.” Anchaly’s voice sounded strained.

Kenzie rose, carefully tucking the cascade of the gold train over her arm, setting the roses in her seat gently. “Hannah, Georgio, I won’t be long, this should only take a few minutes.” Be brave, for him, even if you don’t feel it, because Duncan needs you to be. She walked carefully past Erik, who was giving her a dark look, a don’t let her fuck with you look, to Duncan, whose eyes were clouded behind the dark eyeshadow, suddenly lost inside the turmoil of his emotions.

“Baby, look at me,” she whispered to him, reaching for his hands. As she grasped them Kenzie could feel that he was shaking; feel the immediate change in his mood, the dark shadow that had settled on him, the one that had made him cry in her arms yesterday, the one that had sent his sadness out to her over miles. “We’re going to get through tonight, then we’re going to go away together, just me and you. Okay? And you won’t have to see her, okay? Not until you’re ready. Forget about everyone else.” And Kenzie, in that moment, resolved to do the same herself. Forget about them. About the paps, about Annette’s judgement, about the eyes watching us now, and anyone else who will try to hurt us tonight. When I have you, I’m fearless, invincible, you are my armor of blue flames, I am your armor of weightless gold. And they can’t hurt us.

Duncan brought his mouth down to her, and his lips trembled too, though with the tumult of his emotions or his desire she couldn’t decipher, so jumbled were the two strains of feeling in him. Kenzie gently brought her hand up to his hair and his arms came around her back, lifting her into him, and Kenzie couldn’t help but hear the sighs that came from Erik and Hannah behind her, the sighs that sounded to her like the wings of angels rustling in some holy silent hall, and she soothed him with paper-thin gold, feeling his heart settling down to a steadier rhythm, feeling the trembling in him drift out, into the ether.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and let go of him, staring at him for another moment, seeing the way her energy had calmed him, his eyes bright again amid the gold-and-dark sheen of his shape, and Kenzie snapped the door open and walked, determined, to the elevator.

-------

Annette was standing in the foyer when Kenzie arrived downstairs, her expression strained and softly troubled, the usual anger in her eyes towards Kenzie missing. She was nervously fidgeting with something in her hands--a squarish, flat velvet box. 

As Kenzie’s eyes drifted over Duncan’s mother, she was struck by the other woman yet again: Annette’s coppery-dark hair was pulled back in an elegantly distressed bun, a few strands arranged artfully around her slender cheekbones, her naturally beautiful face made more exquisite with soft makeup tones, a roseate sheen on her cheeks and mouth, a pale olive around her eyes, reminding Kenzie of the blossoms and vines of some pink flower in bloom, of a cheek pressed against a garden wall. Annette’s dress was flowing saffron-colored satin, falling to the ground and shrouding her feet, long sleeves to her wrists (she was wearing one ring, a gold band on her left index finger with a round, yellow-colored topaz stone), a deep V exposing the dip between her small breasts, a string of tiny, perfectly-shaped (and likely priceless) iridescent pearls around her slender throat. As Kenzie stepped closer she could see there were small golden flowers falling throughout the dress, like bursts of pollen reflected in a sunrise. Annette turned her head down for a moment, her eyes closing, and Kenzie noticed there were pearls stranded through her hair as well. She is so beautiful. This woman who adopted Duncan so many years ago. Where did she find him? Who did she claim him from? Who is this woman really, this woman who has kept the truth of him from him for his entire life? I can see her loveliness that has been hidden beneath her shadow, like I could see his right away. It took longer to see hers. But I’ve begun to see it. But her shadow is strong. It’s consumed her for many years.

Anchaly had, somehow, blessedly, vacated the front desk, and Jerry was standing outside the glass doors in the balmy summer night, smoking a cigarette, staring down at his phone. There was no one else in the foyer, and no sound except soft classical music pumping from the speakers, the gold-embossed chairs and couch, lush persian rugs and expensive potted plants their only company.

“Annette,” Kenzie said, reaching her, remaining a few steps away. Annette was looking at her with a pained expression now--an expression Kenzie had never seen. Now that she was closer, she could see there were lines under Annette’s eyes, of tiredness and distress. I don’t think she slept at all last night, Kenzie realized. Because of Duncan. Because she knows how devastated he is.

“Oh, Mackenzie.” Kenzie’s nerves shattered as she saw the tears in Annette’s eyes, saw the girl within Duncan’s mother again, and was moved by her. “You...you are so lovely. I--I’m--”

Annette trailed off, raising the box in her hands out to Kenzie. She seemed to steel something within herself for a moment, force her tears back, force them back into the secret place where Annette Shepherd had been storing pain for decades, and her eyes fluttered closed again, then opened to Kenzie’s--Kenzie felt for a moment that she could almost see her own eyes reflected there, see the green and russet and the gold of herself, see how Annette could see her in this moment. Like an effigy of the Holy Mother, Annette was thinking, and it shook Kenzie to the core of her body to know that. But before she was a mother--when she was young and wild, and free, and the most beloved of all in the eyes of God. There is no wonder that he loves her. My Duncan. My darling boy. I’m sorry.

“I found this a few days ago while I was going through some of the remainders of Adelaide’s--my mother’s--possessions,” and Annette now used the voice of her outward self again, even, carefully measured. “I knew when I saw it that it was meant to be yours. I’d be--I’d--if you would accept it, Mackenzie...I’d be grateful.” Annette closed her mouth, as if by the action she could close off the tide of her emotions rising again with it. Kenzie stepped closer, watching Annette’s eyes rove up and down the exquisite gold of her dress, into her eyes, skirting away. She reached her hands out and Duncan’s mother (for she is Duncan’s mother after all--she loves him with her life, and she didn’t tell him because she couldn’t bear the thought that he isn’t hers, because she loves him as strongly as if he is--her love is true and blinding for him) lowered the box carefully into them, and their hands touched, and Kenzie looked up at her again, then opened it.  

Within was a circlet band of braided gold, its strands leading down to a matte red ruby surrounded by an oval of almost two dozen tiny, perfect diamonds. On either side of the oval were three gold leaves, each set with two diamonds each. I can’t imagine how much this is worth, Kenzie thought, her breath trapped in her lungs. This must be priceless.

“I--I can’t--” Kenzie struggled to speak. How can I accept this?

“Please, Mackenzie. I’ve been--I know I’ve been--” Annette seemed to be losing the strands of her composure, her hands fidgeting in front of her, clutching at the pearls around her neck. “I know I’ve been terrible to you. I have no right to ask you for anything. But please, Duncan--Duncan won’t speak to me, and I--”

Be the golden goddess Duncan sees in you, Kenzie. Be fearless and kind.

“He needs time.”

Kenzie evened her gaze on Annette; lowered the necklace in its velvet box in her hands, but brought it closer to her body, accepting. She lifted her chin.

“He’s very hurt. Keeping the truth from him for so long--it’s wounded him deeply. And I don’t know how long he’s going to need. But I know he needs time.” Kenzie watched Annette’s face, the subtle shift of the pain there. “After tonight, we’re going away for awhile--maybe a few days, maybe a week. And when we get back, I think he’ll be ready to talk to you. But until then, I don’t think he wants to. I don’t think he can. Annette, I will accept this from you...if you can accept that.”

Annette’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and she seemed on the edge of tears again. She dipped her head, eyes closing again, the lengthening afternoon light spilling across her face--despite everything, Kenzie thought, I love her still.

“Please tell him I’m--how sorry I am.  And that I love him. More than anything. More than my own life. And I--I love you also, Mackenzie. I do. I’m sorry to you, too.”

Annette reached out one shaking hand, pressing it gently to the side of Kenzie’s arm, her other hand coming up to hover near Kenzie’s cheek--but that hand continue to hover rather than touch, as if afraid. Then Annette turned without another word, and left the foyer. Jerry held the door out for her, and Kenzie could see a Mercedes parked on the curb, the tall, imposing form of Becket coming out to open the door of the car for her, and Annette slipped inside, and the car drove away.

I guess it’s a good thing Georgio didn’t do my makeup yet, Kenzie thought. Tears, hot and aching and bitter, coursed down her cheeks as she stepped toward the elevator, and they continued to fall all the way back up to the penthouse, the velvet box clutched in her trembling fingers.

------

She immediately saw the pall that fell over Duncan’s face as she came back into the penthouse--strains of Beethoven played quietly now, Duncan’s cheerful mood clearly affected by Annette’s arrival. He knew she’d been crying. He was sitting in the styling chair again, Hannah pressing product through his waves of dark-copper hair, and he launched himself from her fingers as Kenzie closed the door with one hand, the box clutched in the other, running up to her, clutching her against him. Kenzie closed her eyes, immediately soothed in the enveloping weight of his embrace--there’s nothing else on earth as wonderful as this, baby, as wonderful as being held by you. This is the only thing.

“Baby, what happened? What did she do?” Duncan pulled her away, turning her chin up to him, his hand drifting back to cradle around her ear, his eyes full of clouded anger at Annette’s perceived ills.

“She just--she’s sorry. She loves you. She wants to talk to you. I told her we’re going away for a few days. I told her you’re not ready to talk to her yet but--but maybe you will be when we get back. And she gave me this.” Kenzie felt more tears fall down her cheeks as she lifted the box up to him. Duncan took it with fingers that were shaking again--his eyes roved over the necklace with recognition as he opened the box.

“This was Adelaide’s, wasn’t it,” he whispered. “I remember it. I would touch it when she pulled me into her lap when I was little. I wanted to eat the ruby, you know--how you want to eat everything when you’re little--” and Kenzie knew the steady stream of words was to keep himself from crying, from becoming overwhelmed.

“Shhhh, baby,” she soothed. “Will you help me put it on?”

Duncan quieted and nodded to her, his eyes glittering (like sapphire). He lifted the necklace from the velvet box, setting the latter aside on the island, and Kenzie turned, lifting her chin so he could clasp it around her neck--his fingers were warm, almost hot, and her eyes fluttered open and closed at the feeling of them brushing against her (your touch is heaven to me, heaven) and then he gripped at her shoulders, his mouth coming down to kiss her ear, turning her easily, her weight nothing in his arms, and his gaze fell over her neck and his lips drifted open, his eyes opening and closing (nebulas), and Kenzie could see a kind of peace fall over him, as if she and Adelaide were somehow able to meet now, after all.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, and she nodded, her chin turned up to him. “Adelaide would have loved for you to have it.”

Kenzie felt desperate to be close to him, desperate for him to hold her, suddenly, in a dark place where no eyes could reach them, where they could be naked and taste each other with abandon, with only the moon to see. My One. I want to comfort you in the privacy of our room so very much. She pulled his face down to hers carefully, pressing her forehead to his, and pushed golden waves down into him, pushed with all her strength, all her love, all her longing, and she felt his body relax against hers, like a sigh, though he was silent. She closed her eyes, knowing his were closed too, knowing they could see each other without needing to look--she could see the blue waves of him melting behind the darkness of her lids, could see the iridescent gold she had given him. All good things come in time. We just have to get through tonight. Then we’ll be able to comfort each other, my love. Comfort each other for days. He nodded against her skin, and Kenzie knew he heard.

They broke apart, and she looked over to Hannah, Erik and Georgio, watching her and Duncan with mouths agape again, not speaking to each other. She made eye contact with Erik, who drank off the rest of the wine in his glass, giving her a good-natured eyeroll.

“You two make me wanna get drunk,” he said, waving a hand toward them. “I’m raging with jealousy and arousal.” Kenzie noticed someone had put her roses in another of Duncan’s gold vases in the center of the kitchen island, and she looked at them gratefully.

“Mackenzie, come sit, we have a lot to do still,” Hannah said, tapping the styling chair, and Kenzie glanced back at Duncan (baby, come sit with me, please?) and he nodded to her, going back to the kitchen island and pouring himself another glass of wine as Kenzie sat before Hannah and Georgio, who both attacked her with new gusto--Hannah began to rapidly pin the rosebuds through the back of her hair, while Georgio began to rub different substances into her face with cool hands, his eyes intent on her, making her immediately shy.

“Where did you two meet, anyway?” Hannah asked, using a slender, long pair of blunt tweezers to pull the buds into the braids and strands she’d created at the back of Kenzie’s head.

Kenzie was quiet for a moment, glancing at Duncan who was bringing another glass of wine around to her, nestling it gently into her hand.

“It was a Republican party for PAC donors.”

He gave Kenzie a mischievous smirk, then settled into the chair beside her, but not before dragging it closer to her, veering around Georgio and Hannah with abandon, dipping his long legs under her gold platform heels and propping her feet up under him, his hand coming around to her knee. Kenzie knew he was craving her touch desperately--she could feel the need coming off him toward her, the ache in him for the comfort only her touch brought him (only you, his thoughts were whirling in circles, just you, your hands, your skin, you, I need you and they’ll have to deal with it) and she wanted to press her hand against his throat and taste him with her eager mouth, straddle him and tease him until he was begging for her, and she pressed her hand down onto his, sending the tendrils of these thoughts to him as he spoke again to Hannah, glancing at her with burning eyes.

“She was undercover, recording tidbits of juicy conversation for her article--of course, I didn’t know that until later. Not that I think it would have mattered to me. I was wishing I was literally anywhere else, out on the balcony, hiding from everyone, and she appeared. I thought I’d been knocked into a dream. She was wearing this tiny black velvet dress and these golden sandals that tied up her ankle, and had this necklace, and her hair--”

“Ugh, Duncan, stop--”

“Duncan, do not stop,” Hannah grinned at her, soothing her hands against Kenzie’s temples to hold her head still as Kenzie jerked it towards Duncan, then resumed rapidly dipping the tweezers through the back of her hair. Kenzie could see her face through the mirror, how Georgio was applying dark russet liner to her brows, and a heavy black eyeliner to her upper lids, giving her gaze a high drama.

“Hannah, I would have done literally anything to get her to go home with me. I mean--fucking anything.”

“And all you had to do was buy me a drink. I’m a cheap date,” Kenzie smiled up at Hannah, who laughed a little.

“I can imagine it didn’t take much convincing for either of you,” she said, stepping back from Kenzie’s hair to examine her handiwork. “You’re both--well. At the risk of embarrassing myself by using an antiquated standard, separately, you’re both 10s. Together? Fuck. The scale is fucking broken. Most people would claw each other’s eyes out if it meant they got to stand in your orbit, and I’m not one for flattery. Miss Mackenzie Stone, I do believe you’re ready for the Gala.”

Georgio had stepped back at well, in his silent, appraising way, a round brush still in his hand from applying light, rosy matte blush to Kenzie’s cheeks. He’d made her lips dark red, not quite as burgundy as the roses in her hair, but a deep claret that made her mouth look like a ripe fruit. Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; her breath caught as she gazed at herself, the dramatic angle the light threw on her face, the ruby and diamonds glittering right in the dip of her throat, the gold shimmer of her dress wrapped around her like a second skin.

“Turn around, baby, look,” Duncan urged her, his hand softly drifting against hers, Hannah bringing a little handheld mirror down into her hands to see the back of her hair, which was now a breathtaking array of dancing burgundy red buds, falling in a drifting, wild cascade from the artful arrangement Hannah had created.

“God, you really do look like a painting,” Hannah breathed and Erik was standing back in a pose of admiration, another glass of wine dangling at the end of one arm. He laughed in delight.

“Forget everyone else, darlings, I’ll be following you two around all night.”

Duncan groaned. “Please, no. I want her all to myself.” His hand was drifting up from her thigh to where she had turned towards the study to see her back in the mirror, his fingers falling against the buds, and his thoughts were dark red too, dark red with need for her, and Kenzie could feel the fall of them, almost see herself in his gaze for a moment, feel the pulse of his arousal, the memory in him of the feeling of her clit on his tongue, the ache in him to taste her again, his body shivering to remember the sensitive cavity between her legs, the tightness of her ass--Kenzie tried to swallow, tried to breathe, felt her heart pounding insanely at his touch and the intensity of his need against her in this moment, turning from the mirror to look into his burning gaze, and Hannah and Georgio seemed to somehow sense that their time together was ending; Georgio was gathering his makeup with clipped order, Hannah wrapping the curling iron up, tossing pins into the drawers. Erik was languidly pressing a finger to his phone, calling a private Uber.

“I want you so much,” Duncan had dipped his head to her, his mouth shivering against her ear, kissing down under it as he quieted, as if he deigned to think it rather than speak it aloud, as if he wanted to speak it, needed to, had to or he’d scream instead, and his hands were at her waist, feeling with insistent strength, damning the others, ignoring them. Kenzie’s skin tingled with flushed, radiant heat, her thoughts hazy, suddenly, the cool gold of the necklace pressing into her throat and making her cunt twinge, Duncan’s drifting hands making it twinge again, making her breath catch and burst out in a gasp. Make them go away, baby, she thought, and said aloud to Hannah and Georgio, turning away from him, “Thank you so much--both of you--I can’t say how wonderful--”

“Miss Mackenzie Stone, it was my honor,” Hannah said, her smile lit with warmth that shattered into Kenzie’s heart like an arrow. This woman has a beautiful soul. It gave her as much joy to do this for us as I have now to see the masterpiece she’s created for me. “Hoo boy. I think I’m a Duckenzie now too. Better sign up on that website. Did you two see that? Duckenzie Fans, or whatever it’s called?”

Duncan was laughing, nodding a little, dipping his chin down against the palm of his hand, crooked on his knee, his other hand still on Kenzie’s thigh. “Yeah. It’s something. We met the girls who run it, they can’t be out of high school yet. Kenzie was so lovely to them, it was all over the tabloids. She’s so lovely to people. Makes it easy for me to just stand there and say nothing.”

He was smiling at Kenzie again, his hand drifting, his fingers tightening on her, his thoughts clashing through her like the warm rain that had soaked them a few days ago--I wanna be alone with you now baby love, goddess from heaven, I wanna press that plug into you and whisper into your skin all the things I’m going to do to you later, I want you to force that ring onto me and fuck I’m already getting hard for you, my cock is already aching for you, angel--

Georgio was giving them a glittering look again, that wanton desire still blatant.

“If you two ever wanna think outside the box, I have this group I meet with sometimes in Prince William Forest,” he said evenly.

What the fuck does that mean, Kenzie balked. Like an orgy?

Yes, Kenz, that’s what he means. Duncan had half-rolled his eyes at Georgio’s statement, his thumb drifting soothingly over Kenzie’s knuckles.

“I don’t think so, Georgio, thank you.”

“Suit yourselves. You’d certainly be the center of attention.”

“No, thanks, Georgio.”

Erik was pressing a hand into Georgio’s black-clad back, smiling down at him serenely, batting his eyelashes, ushering the thin man towards the door. Hannah dipped down to Kenzie and hugged her around the neck, gently, careful not to muss the flowers in her hair.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” she whispered into Kenzie’s ear. “I hope to see you again sometime, Miss Stone.”

“Call me Kenzie, please?”

“Kenzie. It was an absolute delight. I can’t wait to see your photos literally everywhere tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” Kenzie grasped the gray-haired woman’s hand and steadied her mind, whisking her psyche away from Duncan--and pressed gold tendrils down into Hannah, morsels of light, drifts of her good will. She watched a serene, doleful expression come into Hannah’s brown eyes, then she let go, and Hannah drifted away from her, still staring at her for a long moment. Erik was pushing Georgio out the door, and called out behind him, “I’ll see you in an hour or so, darlings, I can’t wait to meet the infamous Madeline Stone!” Hannah hesitated for the span of a few seconds, she and Kenzie still staring at each other across the room, pulling her portable drawers behind her on the little wheels attached to the bottom.

Hannah, bright blessings to you. Today, and for the days to come, for you.

Kenzie watched the other woman’s face, watched what seemed to be the glitter of a tear on her cheek--then Hannah waved a little to both of them, and pulled the big black door to the penthouse shut as she left.

Suddenly, the penthouse was quiet, and it was only the two of them. The light had begun to fade--it was almost 7 now, and night was beginning to fall. Kenzie glanced over at the Bouguereau prints on the wall, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her, feeling the blue of his thoughts kissing against her mind. The evening mood, she thought, and turned to him again.

Yes, my Kenzie. The evening mood is here. Come to the bedroom with me. He was standing, gently twining his fingers into hers, grasping onto her train and bringing it over his arm with supine grace, the melted gold of his jacket glowing in the twilight that had suddenly surrounded them. The energy inside her was humming now, building to a kind of frenzied rhythm, and Kenzie could see the full moon beginning to rise as they passed the picture window, see its corn-yellow face from last night had not faded, rather sharpened into a bewitching visage, like a sleeping maiden in a field of night-lit grasses.

“I feel like a princess,” she whispered to him as they entered the bedroom, and Duncan was closing the door behind them, closing it to the world--and then he was pressing against her, pressing her into their Mirror with an aching softness that made her mind leap into a static of feeling, thoughts bleeding out into nothing but his mouth on hers, nothing but his hands on the gold braid at her neck, then his fingers along her collarbones, then clutching at her shoulders, the smooth gold cups at her breasts.

“You are a princess,” he was whispering between their kisses, and Kenzie fought to breathe, “you’re my fucking Princess, you’re my fucking Goddess, you’re mine, aren’t you, my angel on earth, you’ll give yourself to me, baby, won’t you--”

“Fuck, yes, you know I will, baby,” she moaned into him, the tips of his hot fingers refusing to press more harshly into her, his blue gaze heavy-lidded, looking down on her from the dark shadow around them now, waiting teasingly for her answer. “Fuck, get my plug for me, please, baby--”

“Shhh, Kenzie, go get your coconut oil, okay?”

“Uh huh,” she murmured, and turned away from him, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up, flush with goosebumps. Kenzie pressed a hand between her breasts as she stepped carefully to the bathroom, serenely quiet and spotlessly clean, feeling her heart racing--she could see her jar of coconut oil on the edge of the sink, and took it with trembling hands. She tried to imagine telling Kenzie from a year ago about this night--you’ll be going to a Gala attended by the richest people in DC, and you’ll look like an angel, and your boyfriend is Duncan Shepherd, and he’s going to push your plug into your ass beforehand and you’re going to make him wear a cock ring and you’re going to edge each other to death all night and then, hopefully, you’re going to fuck each other into tomorrow morning, Kenzie, and you can hear each other’s thoughts, see the depth of his love for you like the swirling center of a fire--

Kenzie swallowed, stared at herself in the darkened mirror of the bathroom for a moment, almost not recognizing herself for a moment--I really do look like a goddess, she thought. I really fucking do. Be that fearless goddess tonight, Kenzie Lou. Just pretend she is you. For tonight, you are her. You’re a goddess.

Kenzie brought the oil out in hands she willed not to shake, and Duncan was standing by the Mirror, looking at himself curiously, appraisingly, the ring clutched in one hand, her plug in the other. He turned to her, and his smile melted her heart into sweet butter.

“Me first,” she whispered. “I want you to do me first, baby.”

Duncan’s eyes darkened (your storm, my sweet god of shadows) and beckoned to her with one elegantly crooked finger.

“Come here, angel.” Whatever Hannah had done to his hair, she’d made it so his beautiful curls were now even more striking than usual, the fall of them seeming impossible to her eyes in this light, their loveliness ethereal, and she saw him as inhuman again for a moment as she fell into his arms--saw him as as a god made of stars and ink-dark sky. You are the god to my goddess tonight, aren’t you, and their mouths came together in another aching kiss, his tongue brushing down into her, and then he was turning her to face the Mirror, turning her so his stomach pressed insistently into her back. He pressed the cock ring into her fingers, taking the oil away, and she gripped its smooth silicone surface, her heart bursting. Give me all your need, baby, make me feel it, remind me that I belong to you. He opened the oil, dipping his fingers into it, eyes focused on her--Kenzie could see her mouth hung open, her breath coming out in ragged bursts, her face glowing with the lovely makeup--I am going to be so gentle with you, baby, but you won’t get to come yet and no one will know your ache for me, no one will know your secret tonight but me, his eyes said, and then he was dipping the plug into it too, and Kenzie’s cunt and ass twinged sharply, and she sucked her breath in, unable to stop the whimper of the moan that fell out of her. But you’ll be thinking of it all night, as I’ll be thinking of my ache for you.

“Please,” she said, and pressed her hands against the Mirror, leaning just a little, ever so little, to give herself to him. Duncan leaned to set the oil on the dark wood--then, he carefully pressed the hem of Kenzie’s golden dress up with a twisting motion, so it fell up and over her hips, exposing the black lace of the panties she wore underneath the opulent gown. Kenzie could feel the damp, cool pressure of his finger tips at the line of her panties now, and with another quick motion Duncan pulled them down so they hovered around her thighs above her knees--he leaned down over her so his face came up beside her ear, and Kenzie cried out to him as she felt his fingers dip into her ass, first his index, then his middle finger beside it, stretching her.

“Kenzie, babydoll,” he whispered into her ear, and Kenzie leaned back, her mind needy, into his fingers, longing for him to press against her clit, knowing with anguished disappointment that he wouldn’t, not yet, not now. “My sweet baby, my angel of roses. Mine. You can’t take this out until I say you can. Promise me you won’t.”

Kenzie felt his fingers leave her and she was desperate for the loss--”Unng, baby, please, I won’t, I promise I won’t--” she whined, biting into her lip, unafraid in this moment with him, unafraid to show him the desperation of her want for him. “Please put it inside me.”

She sighed with relief as his hand came around her throat, gripping so his fingers pressed possessive divots into her skin, then a long, keening cry melted out of her and his fingers tightened at her neck as she felt the plug’s bulbous head, slick with oil, rest for a long, terrible second against the pucker of her ass, then slide with aching pressure and his strong insistence inside her, guided by his pliant fingers. His hand lingered, fingers pressing around the dip of her ass below where the plug was now snugly tethered, as if to ensure that it was tightly in place, and Kenzie was gasping, gasping at the terrible twinging need of her cunt, the throbbing of her clit, aching to be touched by him there, aching for him alone to give her release, her hands still pressed into the Mirror, his dark-shadowed eyes piercing her with their expectant lust. O Hades, my Hades, kiss me, then let me cage you, and in your cage, think only of me, your Queen of Roses, caged for you by your hand.

“My turn, baby,” he whispered, and crouched down to pull her panties back up snugly to her waist, his fingers drifting over her hips, cupping her ass cheeks, then carefully pulling her golden gown back over her legs, using the hand that hadn’t probed into her--he’s so careful, Kenzie thought, I know how much you want me in this moment, and yet still you’re so careful, so neat, afraid to ruin my gown, my Prince. As Kenzie shifted she could feel the twinge of the plug’s weight against the sensitive cavity of her ass, and she felt her knees buckle for a moment, her thighs tingling, her neck longing for the press of his hand again. Want it there always, my Prince, my sweet Hades, your scent like the wild wood of night. She pulled him down to her mouth, laving her tongue out into him, and Duncan moaned with piteous need, and Kenzie felt the long tendriled gold of her need reach out for him in turn, demanding.

“Put your hands at your sides, baby. You’re not allowed to move them.”

Duncan immediately did as she said, his eyes smoldering in the darkening bedroom, his mouth open to her, his thoughts afire with her. God, baby, I am fucking dying for you, you’re so fucking beautiful, not touching you is like torture, I’m yours, I beg you, please, touch me, baby.

You are truly the most beautiful boy I have ever seen, Kenzie thought. And you are fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Your beautiful cock belongs to me.

“I know this is going to make you ache terribly tonight,” Kenzie said, evening her tone just above a whisper. “But you have to be good. You can’t touch yourself, you can’t take it off.” She knelt very slowly in the opulent gown, her back to the Mirror now, dipping her head so he could see the way she was prostrate for him, her head looking up at him, the cascade of her rosebud-brindled hair arrayed for him in its loveliness. Duncan closed his eyes, and she felt how overcome he was, how lost in the sight of her, and it thrilled her--that’s fucking right, Prince Duncan, your Persephone kneels before you now, and you will promise her you will allay your pleasure until she has need of it, and Kenzie could see the dip of his crotch had grown in the low light--she lifted her hands up and undid the button at his groin carefully, unzipping his pants, pulling down the waistband of his body-tight briefs to bring one of her slender hands against the bottom of the shaft of his growing cock, pulling it out decisively, and Duncan’s breath hitched, his head falling back, his adam’s apple bobbing in the light, making Kenzie want to pull him down to her so she could press her mouth against him there. She focused, instead, on his thick length, the veins of his sex suddenly beautiful to her, the head of his cock a roundness that she longed to dip into her mouth, a sliding droplet of precum glittering there. Instead, Kenzie lifted her hand away--Duncan moaned, dejected with the loss of her, and she could see his hands shaking at his sides--then she picked up the ring from where she’d carefully laid it by her knee, dipping her fingertips into the oil, slathering them along the circular interior of the toy.

Then, Kenzie dipped one of her hands into the oil again, and quickly brought it up, before Duncan could prepare himself, to the low hardness of his cock--she slathered the oil along him from head to base and Kenzie watched with satisfaction, feeling the plug pressing into her from her spread thighs where she knelt to him, as his mouth dipped open again and his shoulders shuddered minutely at her touch. Kenzie didn’t wait again--she gripped the ring and carefully, but with deep, concentrated insistence, pushed it onto his cock to the base, watching with a burst of intense heat into the bottom of her belly how it twinged with redness, immediately constricted.

“Ung, Kenzie, fuck me, holy fuck,” Duncan murmured, his hands drifting dangerously close to the ring, to his length, his eyes furiously bright, and Kenzie shook her head.

“No, baby. You can’t. Only I can take it off.”

“Fuck, baby, angel, I can’t--”

Kenzie stood, grasping his cock again, making him shudder and cry out, his throat convulsing, and she pushed him back down into the tight briefs he wore, zipping the closely tailored slacks and buttoning them, her fingers hooking over the waistline, my tall Prince, her face hovering at his heart, her dark red lips falling against the melting gold and velvet of his jacket to kiss it. The heat that fell away from him over her was blinding--he seemed to be burning, the blue flame of him almost visible to her naked eyes.

“You can, Dunny. It’s for me. My plug is so tight, baby, when I sit down it’s going to make me fucking writhe for you--” and Duncan went to grasp her but Kenzie said “wash your hands first, baby,” and he stepped back, nodding, turning as Kenzie followed him to the bathroom--she dipped her hands into the sink with his, the soap mingling between them, the Cartier bracelets falling down their wrists and clinking together, Duncan’s face leaning close to her hair, and Kenzie knew he was breathing her scent in. She reached for the hand towel and dipped her hands into it, then Duncan’s hands were pulling it insistently away, gripping her hips and pushing her into the wall, knowing it was okay, knowing he had her permission to hold her, now that both of them were carefully, insistently claimed by the other, both driven to the edge of their desire and now, with terrible need, held there for an undetermined amount of time, and knowing that to touch each other for a moment, a few moments, would be the only relief for hours. His lips fell against hers, her arms dipping up to reach for him, but he grasped her wrists and forced them against the wall, holding her there.

“I’m in fucking agony, baby,” he murmured, and Kenzie shivered, delighted by the strength coiled in his fingers, the strain in his voice. She struggled a little, facetiously, against his grip, and he tightened it as she giggled.

“Good,” she whispered, and she felt the burst of heat fall onto her from him at that. Duncan bit his lip, his eyes falling down her face to the tailored shape of the dress against her breasts, the dip of her throat with the gold braid, diamonds, and the ruby, the diamonds on her wrist she couldn’t take off unless he unlocked it.

“I wanna fucking fuck you, Kenzie.”

“You will, baby. Later. We have a Gala to go to.”

“I don’t fucking care about the Gala.”

“I know. But we have to.”

Duncan whined into her neck, and Kenzie turned her head, the better to feel his lips on her there, turning her head up, lifting her thigh up so it pressed into his crotch, and Duncan groaned, the sound bleeding into a strangled, tiny sob in the back of his throat. His grip loosened on her wrists, enough for her to release one of them, and Kenzie slipped out of his grasp, bringing her hand around to press into his darkly stubbled cheek, smooth with the dusting of concealer Georgio had put there. Not that he needs it. His skin is already so smooth and beautiful.

Kenzie tapped his cheek with an insistent little snap. “Bad boy is gonna fuck me so good later, aren’t you. My Prince is gonna fucking fuck my brains out.”

“Uh huh. I fucking am. I wanna do it right fucking now--”

She brought her hand up and let it come down again, this time with a more insistent little tap into his cheekbone. Duncan’s breath hitched.

“Kenzie, do it again. Harder. Tell me to calm the fuck down. I’m too hard and I can’t think straight. Fuck, baby, please. Slap me.”

Kenzie nodded and brought her hand up, Duncan still clutching her other wrist to the wall--she made sure her palm was very flat this time, and brought it down with a swift snap. This time Duncan’s face pitched to the side and his eyes fluttered closed with the low pain of it, and he stepped back from her, releasing her other wrist. Kenzie brought her hands around him, steadying him at the waist, and he blew out a low breath, eyes earthwards.

“Let’s go to this fucking party, baby,” Kenzie whispered. “I wanna show them how fucking beautiful we are.”

Duncan lifted his eyes, and the wildfire in them stopped her heart again.

“I’m ready, my Queen of Roses.” And Kenzie grinned, bouncing up against him in her platform heels, shaking out her rose-laden hair, leading her dark prince out of their rooms, his hand gripping her train possessively. Kenzie snatched up the little golden clutch Morgan had made for her, and pulled him, between insistent, coaxing kisses, out of the penthouse and into the elevator. Kenzie was absolutely struck by their reflection now, highlighted by brighter lights of the elevator’s interior--Duncan was pulling his phone out of his pocket. We have to, he thought, and Kenzie nodded. Time to show everyone.

Kenzie pressed against him, clutching her hand to his lapels under her chin, turning her head so the roses in her hair were visible in the mirror, her dress pressed to the side, partially enveloped and hidden by Duncan’s dark arm around her waist, but the back of the golden train shimmering in the light. Duncan’s darkly-shadowed eyes glanced into the reflection, his expression defiant and knowing, the dripping gold of his jacket striking, the golden, intricate tips at his collar scintillating under his sharp jawline, the fall of his hair just-so. He lifted his phone, capturing the reflection, bringing it down for her appraisal. Kenzie nodded, looking up at him. Yes, baby. Good. So fucking good.

She watched as he typed a caption. Hades and Persephone ascend to Earth for a party. #weheardyoulikeus #andifyoudontohwell #duckenziesayshiworld

Kenzie giggled and nodded. “Fuck yes, baby.” He continued to hold her against him as he posted the photo, his hand drifting against her shoulder as he bit his lip, squinting at his phone in concentration in the bright light. I love him. I love how earnest he is in our quiet moments together like this.

“Baby, send it to me okay? I want it.”

Duncan nodded into her cheek as the elevator door dinged open to the foyer, and Kenzie could feel the vague pressure of the silicone ring pressing into her hip from where he leaned his crotch against her. His hand drifted down, quickly brushing over her ass, down to the curve above her thighs, where he knew the plug was--Kenzie let out a little cry and slid away from him, hot lines of want coursing down through her belly at his touch, trying to straighten her expression when she saw Anchaly had returned to his desk. Duncan followed behind her, eyes burning on her, his hand still possessively grasping her train in his fist.

“I see you’ve come down to bless the mortals, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Anchaly grinned. He had a new book, The New Adam and Eve, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Whatever strain he’d felt over Annette’s visit was now gone from his face, and his eyes were glittering at them again, his posture immediately leaning towards them, as if drawn by a lure. “I’m stunned, Miss Mackenzie, your hair, like the garden of Eden.”

Kenzie twirled for him, smiling at him coyly. Anchaly laughed, delighted, gazing raptly. The way people look at us now, she thought to Duncan. It’s a little bit spooky.

I agree, but who wouldn’t look at you that way, angel.

“Have a wonderful evening. I have no doubt you will, how could you not? As blessed as you are.”

Kenzie watched Duncan’s eyes turn on Anchaly, his dawning expression of recognition.

“Anchaly, we truly are blessed. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. To whatever’s out there. The Fates or...destiny. God. The gods. I’m grateful.” Duncan’s hand went to his hair, slid down his chin, rubbing there, thumb drifting to his lip. Kenzie stepped to him and grasped his hand, felt the immediate cooling contentment of his mind at her touch. Anchaly said nothing, merely continued to look at them admiringly.

“I’m sure your gratitude has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Shepherd. It’s apparent in you now. The change in you is breathtaking. You will do great work together. I can see it like a clear path stretching out ahead. Enjoy yourselves and be happy.”

Kenzie smiled. The smile seemed to extend through all of her body, down to her toes, through the tips of her fingers, into the skin of her cheeks and coursing through the back of her mind and her neck to her spine, shaking through the ends of her hair. She pushed the gold tendrils through herself; I’m so happy I could fucking die, she thought, and she felt the tendrils extend out of her in that moment, stronger than they’d ever been before except in the dream where she’d made the fire grow, and she felt them touch Duncan with deep, abiding strength, and brush against Anchaly with affection, and they both looked at her with expressions that reminded her of effigies in a church, faces turned with fervent eyes--and Duncan’s filled her with conciliation, with the knowledge that with his eyes on her this way, she was truly seen, that he saw beyond the flowers in her hair, the blush on her cheeks, the darkness at her lips, to the secret soul she had long hidden, the one that belonged to him because he had promised to love it with abandon.

Duncan seemed to surface from the vision she had pressed around them; he turned to Anchaly and thanked him, and then he pulled Kenzie out the door (Jerry said nothing, merely beamed at them and stared, his eyes wide) to where Samuel waited, and a sweet summer wind was blowing, cool and soft, and it smelled like long grass and the sun-kissed residue of day, it smelled like the full moon that hovered above them, a scent like small flowers in shadows and the heady musk of damp earth and, wildly, the aching crash of the sea, Kenzie’s eyes glancing to its perfect roundness--it seemed impossibly huge tonight, the sun kissing Her, pressed into an ardent embrace; it’s for us, she thought wildly, stopping Duncan breathlessly, bringing him against her under it, his arms lifting her into his mouth achingly, his tall body so right as it enveloped hers utterly, Kenzie, I’ll love you until the end of time, he was thinking, I’ll love you until time means nothing, and it was as if she could feel the moonlight holding them, feel it pressing soft, cool hands into their hair, smiling on them with serene affection, hoping for their love to find its secret holding place later tonight, urging them to the time when they’d be alone again, tangled in the sheets of the black bed, irrevocably entwined, like Her, held by the Sun, now a part of Her, the source of her light, and Her his most beloved. Duncan, I love you so much the words in my heart have not yet been written in any language. The gold of me is all for you. And the moon saw them, and knew it to be true.

---------

It was five before 8 when Madeline slid carefully into the front seat beside Samuel, who was playing Billie Holiday (I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you) quietly. Momby was wearing one of her gold scarves draped over her shoulders with a brocade Calvin Klein dress, as promised, and she had a lovely rose-gold pin clasping the scarf against her--it was in the shape of a rose, and Kenzie puzzled at it.

“Oh Kenzie Lou, you look beautiful,” her Momby breathed, and Kenzie was reaching her hand through the partition, her emotions bubbling up, threatening to overflow. Her mother’s hand was warm and comforting, deeply familiar. “You too, Duncan. I mean, really. Fucking beautiful.”

Duncan was smiling at her through the window. “Thank you, Madeline. So do you.”

“Momby, where did you get that pin? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I had other admirers besides your father when I was young, baby,” was all Madeline said, turning to glance at Samuel. “Why hello, most delightful specimen on God’s green earth.”

Samuel laughed at her, his very white teeth shining out of his mouth in the shadows and dim neon lights of the car’s interior. “Miss Madeline, to see you again is truly a blessing to me. And may I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Go on, go on,” Madeline took her hand out of Kenzie’s and pressed it to Samuel’s arm. Kenzie balked. Momby. Kenzie pulled her phone out, sending Clairebear a quick text, remembering.

Good luck on your date with Harris tonight!!!! I love you so much. We couldn’t help it, we jumped the gun and posted a picture on Instagram, but here it is again. She attached the photo Duncan had taken of them in the elevator to the text, hit Send, then typed again.

Clairebear, thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know who I would be without you. I’m so emotional tonight, it’s like my body is on fire. Duncan and I are going away for a few days after this, his family has a cabin by Deep Creek Lake, it’s a few hours away. He found out he’s adopted and no one ever told him until now, so it’s been really difficult for him. I don’t know how the phone service is out there, and I’ll still have my phone, but I think we’re going to try to go off the grid a little bit.

She hit Send, then typed again, Duncan’s hand drifting to her leg. “I’m texting Claire,” she murmured to him, and he nodded, his eyes closed, his mouth in her hair, blue waves tenderly brushing against her body.

Duncan and I have been having some really strange experiences with each other lately. It’s hard to describe. Strange dreams and other things that should just be impossible. I’ll tell you more about it when we get back. I think we need to figure out what it means and I feel really strongly that if we go off to the woods we’ll find the thing we’re looking for. Not sure why, but that’s what it feels like. When we get back, I think we’ll know more about all of it.

Claire, I love you forever.

They were already pulling up to the Shepherd mansion’s gate, and the moment, the reality of the Gala, which had seemed so far away, had finally arrived. Kenzie slipped her phone back into her clutch, turning to gaze out the window--around the gate were at least two hundred people, some non-credentialed press, some clearly fans. Kenzie noticed with a jolt of recognition that Lindy and Gabby were among them--Gabby was holding a sign that said DUCKENZIE WE LOVE YOU STOP AND BE FRIENDLY, her curly red hair shimmering in the street lamps that lined the tall, impenetrable white fence that stretched around the property. Kenzie grinned--referencing one of my favorite movies is a good way to get my attention, she thought, and leaned to Samuel.

“Samuel, stop here for a minute,” and Duncan balked, trying to grab her hand.

“No, Kenzie, Harris isn’t here--”

“It’s okay, baby, I promise. It’s okay.” She looked steadily into his eyes. I can do this. Watch me.

Kenzie pressed the door open and stepped out onto the curb, and immediately a swarm of press gathered around her--Duncan was getting out of the car behind her, his expression deeply creased with concern. Kenzie took a deep breath and pushed outward--for a moment her body tingled wildly, her mind compressing and her head feeling impossibly heavy, pushing her chin down--and then the air around her seemed to calm, the summer wind that had been blowing seemed to stop, and the frantic shouting of the press around her lowered as if someone had turned a dial on stereo, their pressing dispersing, like leaves scattering, caught in a tiny tornado that spread them back. There, that’s better, she thought, and reached for Duncan’s hand. His expression was stunned now, gazing at her in bewildered wonder, and Kenzie smiled at him earnestly. I told you, Dunny, it’s okay. Come on.

She stepped up to Gabby and Lindy, who hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual, somehow; they were hopping excitedly, squealing and reaching out to her.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, we made you something!” Lindy held out a large squarish object that turned out to be a handmade scrapbook full of fan messages--Kenzie held it gently and nodded. “You look like a goddess tonight,” Lindy said, then unceremoniously the small girl burst into tears.

“Oh, Lindy, it’s okay--don’t cry,” Kenzie was pulling the girl against her gently, and Gabby was biting her lip, clearly hovering near tears as well. “Thank you so much, Duncan and I looked at the website, it’s absolutely beautiful. You two definitely have a career in web design. Maybe we can hire you for Shepherd Unlimited someday.” Gabby rocked back on her heels (both girls were wearing long flowery dresses, and their earnest loveliness pressed on Kenzie’s heart), her eyes fluttering in disbelief. “Oh, Kenzie, really? Thank you so much for looking at it, we’ve been working so hard, so, so hard.” Kenzie let go of Lindy, opening her clutch and handing the girl a tissue from it.

“Girls, we have to go, but it was so nice to see you again,” Duncan murmured to them, taking the scrapbook from Kenzie’s hands, grasping her with tight fingers. Kenzie quickly leaned and kissed Lindy’s tear-stained cheek, then Gabby’s, blushing and hot, pushing gold tendrils into them, watching Lindy’s face calm and soften. There. No more tears, sweet. I see you. She gave them both a little wave as she stepped back, then turned to the other people gathered around them, gazing at Kenzie and her interactions with the two girls with awed expressions. Suddenly the night was strangely quiet; the moon looked down on the scene, and everyone stared at Kenzie, a hush falling over the hubbub of the crowd.

“Next time,” she said, nodding, turning to the press, and then Duncan pulled her insistently back into the car, Samuel whipping the BMW around to the open gate, where several security guards were keeping the fans and other press back, ushering cars through to the mansion entrance. Kenzie heard the sounds of the crowd resume as the car drove on; that was really strange.

“Kenzie, why in the world would you do that?” Madeline was scolding her, looking back at her with an exasperated expression. “Your bodyguard is off duty and Duncan went as white as a sheet. He still is, look.”

“It’s important to be to be kind to people, Momby,” was all Kenzie said. Duncan didn’t say anything, putting the scrapbook from the girls down at his feet, still holding her hand tightly. Kenzie could see that he was a little pale under the dark eyeshadow, but his thoughts were even now. I know why you did it, baby. I love how brave you are, even if I’m not. Even when you do--whatever it is you do. I’m still afraid for your safety, my sweet Kenzie.

I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just feel like I--I really feel like I need to be kind to those girls. Like I WANT to be kind to them. They can see our love and they’re moved by it. I want them to know we see them, too, and how earnest they are. How lovely.

Samuel had made it to the entrance, which Kenzie could see was heralded tonight with huge banners running from the edge of the sidewalk to the entrance, the doors thrown wide tonight to expose the opulent foyer of Annette Shepherd’s mansion. Some of the banners had the Shepherd Unlimited logo (an SU in white Verdana script with cobalt blue fleur de lis on either side) and opulent, swirling gold text on a black background that read 4TH ANNUAL SHEPHERD FREEDOM FOUNDATION GALA: GOLD IN THE DARKNESS and in smaller script The Juxtaposition of Light and Shadow in the Pre-Raphaelite Movement. Between the script banners were picture banners printed stunningly with major Pre-Raphaelite works: Kenzie could make out Rossetti’s Venus Verticordia, Cowper’s Vanity, and Evelyn de Morgan’s The Field of the Slain, alongside others obscured from her seat. The glowing feeling she’d felt with Gabby and Lindy faded out into nervous excitement now, and she felt her throat clench, her hands going cold as blood rushed to her head. She shifted, feeling the press of the plug inside her, sending sharp pricks of intensity up her spine and through her thighs. Duncan clutched her hand more tightly, and she knew he was thinking about the clenching weight of the ring at his cock, could feel the intensity of his desire for her, like lightning bolts of needling sensation, infiltrating the corners of her mind. Hang in there, baby, and she turned to him, smiling nervously, his eyes intent on her as he bit his lip. We have a long way to go.

“Earth to Kenzie and Duncan,” Madeline called into the backseat, her voice impatient. “Your mother is fucking starving!”

Kenzie glanced out the window again--between the rows of banners on either side of the entranceway was a lush black carpet, stretching into the mansion and beyond her eyesight. There were at least a hundred people milling around on it now--the press was confined to the sidelines by gold ropes, photographers to a stretch around the middle of the walkway, a black backdrop visible with the Shepherd logo and various sponsor logos printed along it. Kenzie recognized several Senators and Congresspeople, as well as the Mayor and Vice President Usher, and also recognized several well-known celebrities with a little burst of shyness--get it together Kenz, you’re a celebrity now too, in your own right.

You’re the most important person here, she heard Duncan’s thought to her. I mean it, Kenz.You are. Don’t fucking worry about any of them. Tonight, this is for you. It’s about you. They’re going to see. Kenzie felt a rush of nerves, an aching affection for him, full of gratitude and desire and love, and she quickly dipped her mouth up to his and brought her hand to his hair, then she pulled away before he could deepen it--and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the carpet.

Kenzie’s eyes widened as the collective eyes of the press and photo pools drifted over to the BMW--as one, they seemed to shift all their energy and attention onto her and her alone, giving her the acute feeling of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. Duncan was exiting behind her, and then a short-haired valet hurrying up to them, a flushed look on his face, pulling the front passenger’s open for Madeline, who gave him an appraising stare over her glasses as Kenzie felt the eyes of the guests now turning onto them as well--she locked eyes with Mark Usher for a moment, her blood going cold, and his expression was indecipherable to her, but Kenzie knew he knew who she was, which made her feel as though someone had usurped her body and put a mask on it. The Vice President can’t possibly know me, little ol’ Mackenzie Stone. How the fuck? Life makes no fucking sense anymore.

“Darlings, please, distract them from me,” Madeline turned her head to Duncan, who was holding his hand reassuringly at the small of Kenzie’s back as she stood stock-still, frozen and trapped in her thoughts. “I need to get to the refreshment table post-haste. Kiss or something.”

“You know I’m going to kiss her, Madeline,” Duncan smiled. “As often as possible and as long as she’ll let me.”

“That’s my boy.”

Madeline set out ahead of them before Kenzie could stop her, pausing to made a snide comment to a woman with platinum blonde hair and a monstrous dress that seemed to be made of the tinselly tassels of cheerleader pompoms in gold and white towards the front of the press area. The woman’s face pinched into a mask of dislike at Kenzie’s mother, and Kenzie fought the urge to laugh.

“Who’s that?” She whispered to Duncan, unable to look away from the horrible dress the woman wore. Kenzie felt acutely that she recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t decipher where.

“It’s Gretchen Friedrichs,” Duncan answered in a dark tone. “She has a popular conservative web series called Patriot Watch. And she’s absolutely awful. I hope Madeline just told her to fuck off into a black hole. She’s going to try to talk to you. Ignore her.”

Duncan twined his fingers through Kenzie’s, his other hand coming down to her train to drape it over his arm, and he stepped forward, pulling her gently. Time to go, sweet Kenzie. You look as beautiful as a falling star. I know how brave you are. This is nothing for you. A piece of cake. They were nearing the press pool, the whole of which had turned their attention utterly on Kenzie and Duncan, making the hairs on Kenzie’s arms rise with the intensity of their stares. The energy was suddenly dense, suffocating, almost savage, and it made Kenzie want to turn and run back to the BMW--but the BMW wasn’t there anymore, Samuel had driven away. Too late, Kenz, you’re in it now. Kenzie glanced at Duncan, feeling her heart clench, feeling as though there was water in her ears, blocking her hearing, and she felt horribly dizzy for a moment. He’s so beautiful, all in gold and black, as beautiful as the evening, as divine as an angel with dark wings, Prince Duncan from high in his opulent tower, and who am I, but little Mackenzie Stone, tripping over her own feet, crying over every little thing, with her shitty little apartment and her shitty little tchotkes, her shitty little plants and her little goofy button face--

Kenzie. Remember when you had the nightmare? Breathe like that. Just breathe, baby. I love you more than anything on this earth. You know how extraordinary you are--but I’ll tell you again. You’ve felt it when our minds come together this way--you’ve felt it in our bed, how you’ve made me needy for you beyond all desire I’ve ever experienced, and you’ve felt it in the way you can bring comfort to others just by willing it into them. Mackenzie Stone. You are not a little of anything. You are a gold ocean of impossible depth. Now breathe. I love you. Show them. Duncan’s eyes were twin pools of sapphiric water--they knew her, and saw her, and accepted her utterly, worshipped her, and she knew it.

Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, and breathed out through her mouth. Then she went up to Gary Spencer and Sissy Conners, past Gretchen Friedrichs who shouted “Mackenzie, Mackenzie, does this mean you’re a Republican now?” and smiled at them--and when she smiled, rather than pressing the gold outward, Kenzie swirled it, stirred it, in the pit of her body, stirred it high into herself, and moved it through her mind. Mackenzie. You truly are that brave person Duncan believes you to be. Think of everything that’s happened. This is really nothing. You’re together. You are the sceptre, he is the sword. Eternal and unshaking.

The last of the thought came unbidden, a jarring, nonsensical certainty that she didn’t understand, and Kenzie blinked, moving it away from herself, refocusing on the high, heady boldness she could feel building in herself now. She shifted, resurfacing to reality, feeling the plug pressing into her again, pressing hot fingers into the sensitivity of her muscles and senses. Our secret, baby, here among all these people.

“Mackenzie, how are you feeling tonight?” Sissy was holding a microphone out to her, her smile too wide and too white, her dress a blinding, extremely tight bodycon in dark gold snakeskin. “You look absolutely exquisite, an absolute vision, I know you mentioned yesterday that Morgan Winthrop designed your look for tonight, but what’s the concept here, beyond the theme?”

“I’m the concept,” Kenzie was tilting her head down, batting her eyelashes slowly, giving her best Kenzie-wants-something-from-Momby look--one she’d perfected over a lifetime--aware the camera on Ricky’s shoulder behind them was zeroed on her. She glanced to the side--Duncan was saying something to Gretchen in a low voice, still clutching the end of Kenzie’s train, his expression dark. Gretchen looked like she’d swallowed something sour, and Kenzie looked back at the BPF reporters, a satisfied twinge floating through her mind. “Duncan was inspired by me. By our relationship. We both love mythology and we’re drawn to the myth of Hades and Persephone, so we kind of went with something along those lines, but--I feel wonderful, I can’t wait to see the set-up inside, I just love the banners already. I know everyone’s been working so hard. I love the romanticism of all of it, and I’m so happy Duncan and I are finally getting a chance to step out publically together, so, yeah--I’m just really happy to be here. And to show off Morgan’s extraordinary talents.” She grinned at Sissy, who was gaping at her with surprise. Duncan finally appeared at her elbow; he’d set her train down behind them, and Kenzie turned her head over her shoulder to glance down at it, fanning like a gold river over a black landscape, then turned her face up to him, her smile still wide. I fucking love you, baby. She grasped his hand and Sissy switched the microphone to Duncan now, her expression one of wonder, speaking rapidly.

“Duncan, wow--the look. The eyeshadow, the gold jacket, the collar--you two are just so incredibly beautiful together, there’s now an internet shorthand for your relationship, “Duckenzie”, which I’m sure you’re both aware of, I’ve heard you have a fan club now and your Instagrams are the most popular on the internet lately--I saw you already posted a shot of your looks for tonight and it’s racked up a quarter of a million likes already--is there anything you would say to your fans around the world? They seem to be growing by the hour, and tonight is sure to bring you more.”

“We think everyone is wonderful,” Kenzie said, and turned to Duncan, drifting gold against him. Everyone can see, baby. I feel it. He nodded, smiling down at her, his dark look shivering against her heart again, his thumb pressing into her palm, suggestive, hidden. “And good things are coming,” he said.

“Duncan, can you elaborate on that?” Gary said, his eyes switching back and forth between them, puzzled, rapt.

“It’ll be clearer in time,” Kenzie said to him, staring at him steadily for a long moment. Gary seemed utterly shaken by them; Kenzie could see sweat had broken out on his brow, and he looked away from her after a moment, nervously. “Thanks, Sissy, Gary. Thanks.”

“Have...a wonderful time.”

Sissy’s voice suddenly seemed tiny, far different from the boisterous tone she usually used. Kenzie could see the confusion in the other woman’s eyes--as if she’d seen something she couldn’t explain, something that had shaken her to the core. It’s us, Kenzie knew. Sissy saw us for a moment. Not me and Duncan, not really--she saw those other selves. The ones we see in our dreams sometimes. The ones that cannot be described in words. She saw us, just the tiniest bit, reflected from us like a mirror held up to another time and place. She felt us. Kenzie pulled Duncan away from the press pool, and to the black backdrop, turning towards where fifty photographers crouched on specially designed pews--their flashes immediately blinded her, made her suck her breath in, their voices rising in a cacophony so she could barely decipher one from the next.

“You got this, baby,” Duncan was whispering down into her ear, his hand snaking around her waist again. “Duncan! Mackenzie! Over here! Mackenzie, you look gorgeous! Mackenzie! You look beautiful Mackenzie! Duncan, this way, thank you! We love you, over here! You’re so lovely together! Duckenzie, look this way! Thank you! Duckenzie forever!” And Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh, dipping her head to showcase the dark rosebuds in her hair, Duncan turning his face down to her temple, his smile making her laugh again as he clutched her against him, their Cartier bracelets visibly crossed at their wrists for the onlookers, the shattering rhythm of the cameras rising higher, frenzied to capture the moment between them, the voices of the photographers clashing again and again against each other, and Kenzie felt absolutely drunk to be in his arms this way, suddenly forgetting the dozens of cameras facing them, feeling the pressure of the hidden ring at his groin pressing against the dip of her abdomen, making her shudder in his arms with tiny, almost imperceptible tension, and she could hear a kind of rising sigh from the photographers, a murmuring admiration that seemed to be making Duncan flushed, seemed to be kindling his boldness--he turned his face down to her, opening his mouth just so, kissing her in a rapturous, fluid movement that caused an audible gasp from the rows of cameras, a collective exclamation of gratification that elated her.

His lips bruised against her for a tender, tiny eon--Kenzie lost herself against him for the span of it, her eyes closing to the intensity of the camera flashes, the sound of the shouting mob floating away from her ears, her mind drifting to them alone in their bed in the blessed darkness, his strong, elegant hands tying her to the chain with velvet ribbon, that first kiss, that night on the balcony covered in roses, god, my life changing forever in your arms in an instant, beloved, the unbearable softness with which he’d first touched her, his hands falling to the sides of her face, the urgency of his mouth then, the venerate devotion in his mouth now--and then Duncan was breaking away from her, as if remembering himself, remembering that they were caught in the gaze of at least two hundred people in this moment, and they resurfaced to reality, both of them trembling against each other, longing for the moment where Kenzie knew, and could feel that Duncan knew, they could finally be alone. Alone together, the only thing I ever want now, ever.

There was another audible, collective sigh from the photographers as Duncan gently pulled Kenzie beyond the backdrop--this one of disappointment at the moment ending, Kenzie knew, frustration that they were leaving. They adore us, Kenzie thought. And she knew it was absolutely true; knew it, without ego or pretense, as she knew the full moon was hanging over them, watching the night unfold. They see it too.

Duncan was pulling her away from the frenzied press of the carpet--Kenzie could now see that almost everyone around them was watching them, but everyone seemed to be afraid to speak to them, eyes flitting over Duncan’s dripping-gold jacket, the striking shadow around his eyes, over the fall of her hair and the Cartier diamonds at her throat and on her wrist, falling down the shimmering gold of her bodice and the gentle dip of the sleeves, the train drifting behind her. No one dared to tread on her--Kenzie recognized a very famous actor, watched him carefully avoid the train, his eyes roving up over her form hungrily, and she met his gaze with a tiny smile. He looked away, sheepishly, blushing. I suppose one doesn’t dare mess with the Shepherds, generally speaking. Not for the first time, and she suspected, not the last, Kenzie remembered that Duncan was part of a very, very wealthy family, and that likely, he would soon be the inheritor of that immense wealth.

And then we’ll change the world, baby.

Kenzie gazed raptly at the foyer as Duncan helped her up the steps and through the double-doors, looping her hand into the crook of his arm, pressing her fingers into the muscles there, feeling him clench them at her touch. More baby, touch me more. There were dozens more of the banners here, Hughes’ Ophelia, Burne-Jones’ The Golden Stairs, but the angels of Waterhouse’s St. Cecilia caught her eye immediately--their sweet faces calm and reticent, watching the saint in her slumber, their innocence and sincerity clamoring into her heart. They look like Gabby and Lindy, Kenzie thought, remembering Lindy’s tears. My two little angels. Duncan looked back at her, noticing the emotion in her. She shook her head a little.

“It’s all just so beautiful, Dunny,” she whispered, and he was nodding to her, the dark beauty of him in the chandeliers moving her further still, moving her beyond words again. He brought his arm around her to drift down her back, pulling her beside the staircase, out of the way of the people around them, sliding his fingers down to the beginning of the incline of her ass, and she drifted back from him, shaking her head. No, baby, don’t. It’s too much. There are too many people. You need to be patient. She saw the terrible longing floating behind his eyes, saw the blue flames licking around her from him, and she smiled. Poor, poor baby. Is that ring making you ache and ache for me?

Yes, Kenzie, fuck. So fucking much. It’s almost unbearable. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

My poor, sweet baby. Kenzie went back to him, letting him grip her under her bare arms with his hot fingers, letting him press his mouth against her cheek, onlookers be damned. Let them look. Annette was nowhere to be seen here--Kenzie’s eyes skirted across the room as Duncan continued to kiss down to her ear, pressing into her. She must be in the room beyond. I don’t know how we’re going to avoid her, but we’re going to.

“We should probably find Momby, make sure she hasn’t fallen into a fondue fountain somewhere.”

“God, I just want you alone,” Duncan’s mouth was shivering into the dip of her ear, bringing the delicate hairs at the back of her neck up, his hands drifting at the smooth gold under her breasts. “I just want you all to myself, angel.” Kenzie could see people staring at them, eyes hungry; god, I don’t know who a lot of these people are, but they look fucking important.

“Shhh, really baby, we should find Momby, okay? Please?”

At that moment Kenzie’s eyes zeroed on a figure making a determined beeline for them from the other side of the foyer--Duncan was still pressing his mouth into her ear, sucking and biting there with urgency, his whispers having quieted to now drift secretly in her mind, and he hadn’t noticed the figure yet. It was a woman, and she was petite, like Kenzie, and beautiful, with wide, long-lashed eyes, full lips and a button nose, but rail-thin, her chin jutting towards them as though she were being pulled by an invisible force. She had long, artfully styled platinum hair, falling over her shoulder in expertly arranged waves, and her dress was a sculptured black bodice decorated with intricate gold embroidery, accentuating her minute waist, which fell into a voluptuous cascade of black tulle that seemed to buoy her across the room. At her throat was a huge yellow diamond, so large Kenzie wondered for a moment how she was holding her head up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as if she were bitterly angry, but a wide smile was plastered across her face, exposing all her teeth (like a crocodile, Kenzie thought). Her dark eyes were staring, eerily unblinking, at the back of Duncan’s head, and at Kenzie.

Marissa Montague.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, trying to pull back from him, but he continued to kiss at her, lost for a moment, “Duncan, it’s--”

“Duncan Shepherd! Duncan, oh my god, I’ve been so busy lately, it’s been so hard to call you!” Marissa had reached them, and her voice pitched high, dipping towards uneven, though her smile remained plastered on her face, stretching her cheeks to what looked like an almost painful degree to Kenzie. Duncan stopped kissing Kenzie’s neck, but his mouth still hovered close to her, his arms still clutched tightly around her. Kenzie looked over his shoulder into Marissa’s eyes; she could see the coiled snake that rested behind them, the wanton need, now that Marissa was this close. But not for Duncan, not really, Kenzie knew. What she wants is attention--fame, attention everlasting from the multitude, and to be showered in riches, but her thirst for them is insatiable. There’s a hole inside her that gnaws with hungry teeth, and it has never had its fill, not once. So she searches for more food for it.

Duncan turned his head slowly to look at Marissa, and Kenzie saw the cast of a dark storm inside his eyes, felt the blue flame of him, shimmering, flare up with discomfort. Oh, no FUCKING way, she heard his thought, and slid her fingers down his arm, soothing him with her touch. It doesn’t matter, baby, I’m here. We’re together. Let them try to get between us. Let her try. Let anyone.

“Why would you be calling me anyway, Marissa?” Duncan was gazing at her evenly, still holding Kenzie close, his hand drifting in her hair, over the rosebuds. Kenzie could feel the wave of anger in him, feel the drifting measure of dislike. She’s lovely on the outside, Kenzie thought, but inside there is something gone, like it was ripped out of her and only the ragged void remains, a void she longs to fill but cannot. Poor Marissa. She instantly felt empathy for the other woman, seeing her so closely, felt embarrassed for her, as if Marissa were suddenly naked. As lovely as the actress was, Kenzie could immediately see how deeply discontent she was, how full of voracious need.

“Well, we never really finished what we started, now did we?” Marissa stepped forward, the smile that had been plastered faltering a little, her eyes skirting to Kenzie with annoyance, her hand snatching out, attempting to grasp his velvety arm. Duncan stepped out of her reach, pulling Kenzie to the side with him, his mouth curling up ever-so-slightly.

“And we never will. Marissa, this is my girlfriend--my partner--Mackenzie Stone. I’m sure you’ve read about her. Kenzie, this is Marissa Montague.”

“Of course,” and Kenzie forced herself to smile politely, bringing out a hand, Duncan’s cheek pressing against her hair, refusing to let go of her or let Marissa near him. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Marissa ignored the hand, crossing her arms now, barking out a little laugh.

“Partner,” she mimicked. “Since when have you ever had a partner, Duncan? We all know your reputation. You used to bring a different fuck buddy home every night, I was there back then, when we were all hanging around with the Ducatis and doing a mountain of cocaine every day.” Marissa plastered the grin back on her face. “I can see why you’re stringing this one along, though, what a scrumptious little pussy cat.” Marissa brought her hands up to her face and pressed them in a V against her mouth, flicking her tongue out.

This woman has no interest in sex, Kenzie knew, despite Marissa’s lewd gesture. Marissa’s eyes flicked over to her again with a measure of loathing, and Kenzie caught her gaze this time, trapping Marissa’s dark, intense eyes. In fact, it disgusts and bores her. But she is practiced at the art of pretending. She’ll fake interest in anything if she thinks it can move her to where she thinks she wants to be. Sometimes, though, she’s disillusioned by the reality versus her expectation. And she always wants more. Like a wind that howls endlessly.

“Marissa. What do you want?” Duncan’s tone dipped, and Kenzie could feel his anger beginning to stir, his frustration and lust for her pressing against the anger, kindling it further, his sorrow and disillusionment with his mother pressing there too, and his energy became ragged and chaotic, the turmoil in him suddenly like water boiling over. She concentrated, conjuring wave after wave of translucent gold in her mind, staring at Marissa evenly as she pressed them down over him in his arms. I have no animosity in my heart for you, she thought to the other woman. In fact, I feel acute sympathy for you. I’m sorry you’re trapped in a world where you cannot possibly be yourself.

“I want you to ditch this penniless, raggedy bitch, Duncan. What are you doing? I mean, who even is she? Do you realize what you’re doing to your reputation? Really, it’s embarrassing.” Marissa was rolling her eyes, fingers toying with the huge diamond at her neck, another mirthless laugh barking out of her. “I’m gonna go do a line in the bathroom, and you should join me. I mean, it’s silly that we stopped seeing each other. I’m willing to forgive you if you’ll just get rid of her.”

“Marissa. You’re embarrassing yourself right now. Please, go away. Immediately.” Duncan’s tone was quiet and very low. “Go away or I’ll have you escorted off the premises.”

Marissa scoffed. “Duncan Shepherd, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Marissa.”

Kenzie had been watching from the cocoon of Duncan’s arms, but a hot, blinding energy had been building behind her temples for the last few minutes, one that seemed to want to burst from her mouth and her eyes and the corners of her fingertips; seemed alive and impatient, shot through with sunlight, and the power of the energy, the feeling in the center of her belly, was immense, like the dream where she’d made the fire grow. The energy, Kenzie knew, could do whatever she willed it to do--could move objects, could stop them, could distort the air, could freeze it, could move unseeable things, reverse them, rewind them. The knowledge of the immensity of the energy overwhelmed her for a moment--and Kenzie felt sure that though this woman had some strange power of her own (it was like indigo, the color of her, like indigo that ached, and the thing Marissa ached for was a thing she couldn’t find, like a lost portion of her heart that had tumbled down a dark well, never to be retrieved from the depths again), Kenzie was calm in the certainty that hers was greater, because it was lighter, it was the gold that could move all things, the gold that could heal, and the gold that could shield from all darkness.

“Marissa,” Kenzie said again, focusing her eyes inside the other woman’s. “It’s over. You will not be able to move him again. You must stop now. It’s futile.” The world has shifted, she thought now, into Marissa’s wide brown eyes, the words clear in her mind, as if she’d read them in an ancient book. The path is set. Yours goes somewhere else. To attempt to alter our destiny--the High Destiny--will result in your personal destruction. Stop now, little one.

The air seemed to cool, to thin. The three of them were inside the energy now; the energy that had come from the center of Kenzie, that she had somehow pressed out, controlled, to only the cocoon of their circle. The other guests seemed to drift past them as if in a dream, not glancing at them, as if they didn’t see the cocoon at all, as if she, Duncan and Marissa were suddenly invisible--it’s working, Kenzie thought. Let’s see if I can move her away from us now.

Marissa’s expression had fallen from the obscene, mocking smile to one of confusion and apprehension--her eyes widened, her head whipping back and forth inside the cocoon Kenzie had created around them, and she seemed utterly bewildered.

“What the fuck,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Marissa, I’m sorry. I can see how cold you’ve felt, and for so long. Good luck on your path. Look for something that won’t harm others. Look for something to protect. I promise, if you can find that, you will be happy someday. Go now. Forget about Duncan. That’s all over. He is not yours, not at this time, and not in any time.”

And with those words spoken, Kenzie pushed Marissa out of the cocoon she had built, and Marissa turned, as if in a dream, and walked away from them, not looking back, her blonde hair and tulle skirt retreating until she had turned the corner of the vast parlor beyond, and they could no longer see her. Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, counted. As she did, she could hear her heart beating frantically, feel the tiny shaking in Duncan’s arms as he held her, His face had pressed against her temple again, his eyes closed, and he looked almost meditative, but Kenzie could feel the confusion inside him; he doesn’t understand what I did, either. But he trusts me. He trusts me now. He knows I’d never hurt him, never, never in this world. He knows I will always protect him. And I will, baby. I always will.

Then she breathed out, and the spell broke; the cocoon dissipated, and they were back in the foyer of the Shepherd mansion, the sounds of clinking glasses, lilting piano music, and blue-blooded voices speaking in polite cadences bleeding back into the background. Duncan opened his eyes to stare into hers, and the storms there had dissipated--their blue was calm now, like the sky bleeding into a summer evening, like the moon’s reflection on a pool of water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?”